Windows of the Soul
by Autumn2005
Summary: When Sarah beat the Labyrinth, she earned the title Heart of the Labyrinth and a hefty dose of magic. Six years later, the Labyrinth is threatened, and Jareth needs her magic to defend the Labyrinth. But she has betrayed him to the Trolls, and all of Underground is in danger if the Trolls gain access to the magic the Labyrinth guards. Jareth/Sarah, HEA.
1. Genesis

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the clothes on my back!**

**A/N: This is a little plot bunny started kicking through my mind after recently rewatching the Labyrinth at a friend's birthday party. I pinned it down, and this is what emerged. This is just a little preview of what will become a longer story eventually, but I thought it works as a decent glimpse into the kind of Labyrinth I am building. This is my second work of FF, and first Laby-fic. I am interested in what people have to say about it. Thanks!**

**Summary: When Sarah beat the Labyrinth and earned the Goblin King's love, she unknowingly gained the title of Heart of the Labyrinth, as well as a hefty dose of magic. It's been six years since she refused the Goblin King, and now the Labyrinth is being threatened. Jareth is able to hold back the Troll army, though he is missing a strong part of the Labyrinth's magic, until something happens to tear his heart in two. Sarah has betrayed him to the Trolls, and unless he can stop her, the Trolls will gain access to a powerful source of magic that will destroy the Underground. Jareth/Sarah, HEA, T**

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><p>Windows to the Soul<br>Prologue: The Goblin King

The Goblin King's lungs were full of blood and phlegm. Each breath was a sharp knife in his diaphragm, a harsh rasp in his dry throat. His feet were nothing more than jagged shards of pain that barely held his weight. His hands were gnarled beyond all recognition, no longer able to grasp a pen for writing—or a sword for fighting. But that was what the goblins were for. They might not be poets, but they could usually distinguish the pointy end of the sword from the handle.

It would not be long before he was called to his eternal rest now. Even the immortal Fey reluctantly faded to time.

His eyes were filmed with grey. He could not see to the end of the room, but he could clearly see the Fae boy struggling in the Labyrinth. The boy was young, scarcely sixty years old, but the Goblin King had long suspected that he would attempt the Trial of the Labyrinth. The child's bright blond hair was a beacon that helped the Goblin King track his progress.

Currently, the lad was fighting against a pair of marsh-feelers. Their thorny vines were wrapped around his whip-cord body, lifting him into the air and threatening to tear him apart. The Goblin King reached out the Labyrinth. He felt it responding to him, just as it had for centuries. _Do not make it too easy for him,_ he whispered to the Labyrinth. The marsh-feelers tightened around the lad, making him cry out in pain.

_That's it, tighter,_ the Goblin King urged. _Taste his blood._

The Labyrinth surged against his mind, gently protesting the harsh treatment. The Labyrinth had no hesitation to soak up hot blood and steal life away—but only when it was necessary. The youth did not deserve to die.

_Very well, allow him to breathe. But do not release him. He must get out on his own_— He broke off and smiled, seeing that the boy had wrenched an arm free—causing a deep wound near his shoulder that bled freely—and managed to seize his sword. The child hacked at the marsh-feelers, until they suddenly threw him down with a bone-jarring thud.

The Goblin King sat forward sharply, ignoring the lance of pain down his spine. Was the boy dead? The Labyrinth admonished him silently. Why save the boy from the marsh-feelers only to have him perish from a simple fall?

Breathing harshly, the youth forced himself to his feet. He leaned on his sword and swayed precariously, clearly dazed. He shook his head sharply, and continued deeper into the Labyrinth. The Goblin King sighed with resignation. He would have rather that this lad did not make it to the center of the Labyrinth. Out of spite, he opened a pit to the Leech Swamp under the boy's feet. The boy leapt away from the collapsing ground with an agility the Goblin King frankly envied. The Labyrinth laughed at him, causing a rockslide that the boy was not so lucky to avoid.

The youth danced among the rolling stones—some of them nearly half his height—before he slipped. The Goblin King's breath caught in his throat as the child went down. That boulder there was certain to crush his leg to pulp—but the Labyrinth shifted slightly, cradling the boy's leg between two other rocks so he would only feel a deep bruise from the encounter. _You are growing soft,_ the Goblin King sneered at the Labyrinth. The only response was a shrug which made a shower of smaller stones—only fist and skull size—rain down on the youth.

He tried to shelter his head, but a rock the size of two fists crashed toward his face. The boy jerked. Instead of taking off his face, the rock struck his scalp and painted half of his hair red with blood. The Goblin King breathed out slowly as the youth stirred and pushed himself up again. The Labyrinth sent a smug wave toward the Goblin King. _Alright,_ he admitted, _I don't want to kill him either. Just—discourage him from finishing._

The Labyrinth did not comment. The evening was very late as the boy struggled onward. His sword was broken, but he clung to it stubbornly. Always so stubborn, that one. He had until nightfall to reach the Castle beyond the Goblin City. There was little hope of getting the boy lost within the city, and even the worst antics of the goblins only caused him a couple minor detours.

The top edge of the sun was less than a finger-width in the sky when the boy broke free from a goblin dog-pile and sprinted for the Castle doors. He dove for the walls, slapping a bloody hand print on the warm stone before falling to his knees. Two fast heartbeats later, the sun was gone. The Goblin King frowned. The lad had cut it close, but he had reached the Castle before the deadline. It was time to grant a boon.

The Goblin King rose stiffly, and took his walking stick as he hobbled to the Castle door. The Labyrinth took pity on him and shortened the distance between the door and his chambers. He reached out and stroked a wall gratefully. With a gesture, the Goblin King caused the doors to swing inward.

The boy was there, on his knees, filthy, bleeding, and panting from his exertions. But his eyes, when he looked up at the Goblin King, were bright with the fervor of youth. The Goblin King closed his own eyes with a feeling of regret. Was there any question what the boy would ask for? A Fae youngling only pushed himself so hard for power. He would ask to become the King. And the Labyrinth had tested him hard, giving no quarter to the boy. He was worthy of the favor he would ask. Still, the Goblin King wished there was another way. The best kings were the ones that did _not_ ask for the crown.

"You have passed the Trial of the Labyrinth," the Goblin King spoke in his croaking voice. "What boon would you ask of me?"

The boy took a moment to gulp air, something like pity passing into his eyes as he surveyed the old Goblin King. "I would ask a boon, but not for myself," he spoke clearly. "I would ask that my boon pass to my uncle, that he might wish himself healed."

A feeling of warmth swelled in the Goblin King's chest and spread outward to his limbs. He blinked in surprise, and then blinked again as tears threatened. The Labyrinth hummed proudly against his mind.

"Jareth, what are you doing?" the Goblin King asked. "You could have asked for _anything_. You could have wished yourself to be King in my place."

Jareth shook his head, still not rising from the ground. His slight body trembled with exhaustion. "I don't want it, Uncle. I only want you to be better. Please, use my boon to heal yourself."

The old Goblin King shook his head slowly. "No, Jareth, I am beyond healing now. You gave your boon to me, and I use it now to declare you my heir and successor as the Goblin King." The magic surged and circled them. The Labyrinth sighed in pleasure at the successor they had chosen together.

Jareth's mismatched eyes widened in utter shock. The Goblin King knew he had chosen well, for it had never even crossed his nephew's mind to take the power for himself. He was certain Jareth would make an excellent Goblin King.


	2. Shattered

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed/followed. I realize that my beginning did not much match my description, but I promise it will eventually. I just wanted to start building some of the mythology of this version of the Labyrinth. I'm sorry this is such a short update, but I like to post things in complete segments when possible. I will start posting longer updates, I promise. I will be switching perspectives a lot in this story, but so far much of it is written from Jareth's POV. Okay, enough gab!  
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><p><em>800 Years Later.<em>

"I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be you slave."

Jareth was burning. Burning for this little slip of a girl. Eight hundred years he had been the Goblin King, and never before had a runner captured his imagination and soul before. Yes, Sarah held his soul in her hand as he showered her with dreams and promises. All she had to do was stay with him, fear him, love him, obey him, and together they would rule his kingdom. The Labyrinth hummed against his mind, approving of his choice of consort.

She had won through the Labyrinth and earned the boon of asking for her brother back. Now he just wanted her to remain with him, take her rightful place as the Heart of the Labyrinth. She would be his Heart, he would be her Trial, and together they would protect the Instance. The magic was already settling around her. Jareth had never felt _complete_ before. Sarah's presence as the Heart of the Labyrinth made him whole, assuaged the hungry ache inside him that had existed for so long. The Goblin King alone was not meant to hold both positions as the Trial and the Heart, not forever, and having a consort eased his burden, refreshed and strengthened him—

"You have no power over me."

He shattered. He was torn in two. As Sarah fled to Aboveground, he felt his soul wrench apart. The Labyrinth howled with him. The Goblin King and the Labyrinth were inexorably connected, and what one felt, so did the other. The Labyrinth existed to protect the Instance, the beginning, the source of all magic. The Goblin King controlled the Labyrinth. He was the Trial of the Labyrinth, the ordeal that must be passed in order to access the Instance and ask a boon. It was his consort who was the Heart of the Labyrinth, the granter of the boons. He had fulfilled both positions for too long, and it had grown thin on him.

Just when he thought his wait was over, that he had found his Heart, she was _gone_. _His Heart was gone_, and she took his magic with her. He gasped and panted, clutching at his empty chest. His physical heart was just a muscle that beat against his ribs, but he could feel that the Heart's magic was gone from him. He was hollow, the Labyrinth was hollow, and they both shuddered as he struggled not to collapse without his Heart.

The Labyrinth grieved her loss, keening with winds that made the very trees weep in sorrow. How could he go on without his Heart? But he must. The Instance needed him. The Underground needed the Goblin King to be strong, to be neutral, to prevent the misuse of the magic that had created the very world around them. Slowly, he rose to his feet. Around him, the Labyrinth was cracked and broken. He felt it trembling in his mind. He was… afraid for the Labyrinth. It was a child that had lost its mother, its comforter.

He reached out for it, tried to sooth it as best he could. It was a lot harder without the Heart's magic inside him. But Sarah was the Heart of the Labyrinth now, and she always would be, until the day she died—the Labyrinth spasmed in pain at the thought, and Jareth struggled to calm it before it shook apart. They still had each other, the Goblin King and the Labyrinth.

Together, they would manage. They had to. All of Underground needed them to.


	3. Grey

**A/N: Thanks again for your fav/follows! So far I have up to 9 chapters written, so I'll continue to update every few days. Here we get to meet Sarah for the first time. If you have any questions or spot errors in the story, don't hesitate to speak up!**

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><p>Chapter 3: Grey<p>

_6 Years Later._

Sarah's alarm went off with a dull buzzing. She was already awake, staring up at her ceiling. She didn't move. Contemplating the shadows on the ceiling seemed a better prospect than rising. What did she have to get up for? What day was today? Wednesday? Thursday? It mattered, but only in a vague way. If it was Wednesday, she had work, pushing the mail cart in an unremarkable business. It was a boring, dead-end job, but usually worth getting up for. It paid most of the bills, and sometimes put food on her table. Not that food had much appeal for her.

If it was Thursday, it definitely was not worth getting up. She had school on Thursdays. She didn't know what she was going to school for. Her major was still "General Studies," which was what they called "Undeclared" these days. She only had one class this semester, an English course. The lethargy had plagued her for the last few years, ever since… since… that _Moment_ that she did not allow herself to think of.

But last Thursday, in class, she had discovered the cause of the lethargy, and now it was worse, so much worse. It was impossible to get out of bed, unbearable to eat, and unthinkable to keep moving. It all began with a damn peach. In class, they were discussing fairy tales, a subject that always made Sarah uncomfortable. But that day, the topic had strayed to fairy food, and why you should never eat or drink anything while traveling in the fairy realms.

The taste of fairy food had a variety of effects, depending on which story one was reading. Sometimes it trapped the mortal in the fair realm, sometimes it put them under the control of one of the Fair Folk, and other times it made all other foods taste like ash in the mouth. To the class, it was a hypothetical situation. Sarah could have answered their questions definitively. She never had much interest in food after that damn peach. Who would have thought a single bite could have such consequences?

Food didn't taste like _ash_, but it didn't taste good, either. She was not anorexic. She would eat when she needed to, but she had to be hungry enough to get past the bland, boring taste of ordinary mortal food. She had tried to forget that _Moment_, but it was impossible to refute the evidence now.

No taste was as bitter as regret.

For a brief, exhilarating _Moment_, she had lived. She saved her brother, and for a short time, had the entire _world_ at her fingertips. And she said no. There was no other answer she could have given. She was too young at the time but still… it didn't stop a pair of mismatched eyes from haunting her nightmares… her dreams.

Sarah sat up in bed, feeling as though she were eighty-one instead of twenty-one. A glance at the calendar made her want to fall back in bed and pull the covers over her indefinitely. It was Thursday. After last week's discussion, the class had been assigned a short, three page paper arguing the effects of fairy food on mortals. She hadn't done it. How could she?

She knew her family thought she was depressed. It was a decently accurate description for how she felt, but she knew it was so much more complex than that. The blaring of the alarm finally broke her temper. She grabbed her pillow, cocking her arm back to throw it at that blasted piece of plastic—and it turned off by itself. She eyed the alarm suspiciously. Not just off: the dial was blank. It had lost power.

Was there a power outage? She turned on her bedside lamp, and squinted against the sudden light. She stood, took a moment to find her balance—she was dizzy with hunger—and walked over to her alarm. A glance at the shelf behind it showed it was still plugged in. She pulled out the cord, inspected it for damage (rats had chewed her electronics before, resulting in sudden darkness and a dead rat) and then plugged it in again. The alarm clock turned on, blinking the red numbers 13:00… 13:00… 13:00. Her breath caught in her throat. She looked again, her heart pounding in panic. No, no, she was wrong. The clock read 12:00… 12:00… 12:01…

She let out her breath slowly. The digital clock couldn't possibly read 13:00… it didn't have a military time setting. And there was no such thing as a thirteen-o'clock. She was just mistaken. Still, her hands were shaking as she left her room.

She made herself a tasteless bowl of cereal, and threw half of it out when it became soggy. She dressed automatically, avoiding looking at the blinking alarm. She lived alone in a small studio. It was drab and broken-down, but it was all she could afford while going to school. She didn't have a car, but her bike was locked to a post outside her doors. She walked past it without a glance. She wouldn't be going to school today.

The day was grey and overcast, which matched her mood precisely. She kept her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, hunched her shoulders against the cold, and started walking. It didn't matter where she went. She was not going to school today. She couldn't remain in her studio all day. She just needed out. She needed… something. Something more than this grey, lifeless existence. A pair of mismatched eyes, one brown, one blue, flashed through her memory. She winced against the shard of pain in her chest. No, not that. Never that. She had her chance, when she lived in the _Moment._ That would never come again.

She walked without seeing other people. They seemed to be as dull and grey as her. It was like the peach had not just drained flavor from food, but had worn down her entire existence. Food did not satisfy her. Music could not sooth her. Reading did not enliven her mind. She knew no pleasure here. She was a walking shell, at once hollow and raw to the world around her.

She really had tried, especially when she first came back from the _Moment_. She loved her little brother, and even tolerated her step-mother better. She forgave her father for his awkwardness. But as time went on, it became harder to pretend. Harder to care. This world seemed empty and flat compared to the time she had lived in the _Moment_. She found herself thinking of it at odd times, before forcing her thoughts away quickly.

Still, this world dragged her down. She wished… she wished… no, she did not wish anymore. She had not used that word since the _Moment_. But still… if only…

A flash of color caught her eye. How strange that was. Her curiosity was peaked. How long had it been since she'd felt a genuine interest in anything? She looked, chasing the color with her eyes. It was black. Now, black was not a particularly exciting color, but it was _black_, and shining. It was a pure color, not the washed out colors she had been seeing for so long.

The black belonged to a pair of boots. Strange, old fashioned boots that looked out of place in this modern world of sneakers and sandals. Her heart lurched in her chest. _They were familiar_. She had seen them before, in dream she did not allow herself to have. The boots were attached to legs in tight leggings, a garish shade of red that hurt her eyes even as she feasted on them. _Red_. How beautiful it was, this bright splash of color in her dull world. The leggings hugged lean hips as her eyes trailed upward, to a torso clothed in a billowing white poet's shirt, but contained by a tight, rich brown waistcoat.

Again, hauntingly familiar. Her feet carried her toward the body of their own accord. After so long of _absence_, she was drawn to the color helplessly. She needed more, hoped and feared for more. White-blond stands of hair brushed the shoulders of this unquestioningly male form. The pale skin of his chest, revealed by the shirt's open collar. The sharp angular face that ripped a sob from her chest. Those exotic eyebrows, the unique markings around his eyes. His blue eyes. Fear slashed through her body. No. No, that was _wrong._ This was all wrong, and she was too close, but her feet wouldn't stop. Those blue eyes were _laughing_ at her.

Then there was pain. And darkness. And nothing else.


	4. Betrayal

**A/N: Sorry this is late (even though it is technically still Friday on the West Coast)! Many thanks to those following my story. If you like it, I would love to hear about it, if you don't, I'd like to know why. I'm open to questions and speculations, just about anything! I have about 12 chapters completed, some of them longer, some of them shorter. This chapter happens to be one of the longer ones. I hope you enjoy it!**

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><p>Chapter 4: Betrayal<p>

"Sire, trolls have breached the outer walls!" squeaked Spyglass, the small goblin nearly falling from the window in his upset.

"Yes," Jareth said absently, as if he hadn't already felt their footsteps in his Labyrinth. He leaned against the wall, the contact with ancient stone strengthening his connection to it. The Labyrinth quivered in fury. He stroked it, even as his other hand reached out and plucked Spyglass from mid-air when the goblin over-balanced. Spyglass squeaked until Jareth put him down on solid ground again.

Twenty-one trolls. Only half a dozen had gotten through last time. They were growing bolder—and stronger. He followed their passage through his Labyrinth. There—a gap in the ranks. Acting with one accord, the Goblin King and the Labyrinth shifted a wall between the trolls, cutting half the group off from the other. He opened a chute to the Bog of Eternal Stench under their feet, sending six of them tumbling downward. Three others fell into one of his oubliette traps, where they turned on each other in terror.

_More, we need more,_ he thought at the Labyrinth. Somewhere, far down the reaches of the Labyrinth's memory, was another connection. He reached for it, and yes, there it was, his uncle's old Leech Swamp, where there were still a couple disgruntled marsh-feelers. His arm twinged in memory of their dangerous vines, but there was no apology from the Labyrinth. The testing had been necessary, and Jareth agreed with it. Seven trolls fell into the swamp, and leeches as long as his arms immediately latched onto the trolls. The marsh feelers plucked the trolls from the water. It was even odds whether the trolls would be drained or ripped to pieces first.

He got the remaining five trolls lost in a circular maze and released a pack of gremlins. The sound of screams soon rose in the air. It wasn't _enough_. The Labyrinth was shuddering in rage. Jareth tried to sooth it. The walls grew taller, thicker, the passages narrower and more twisty. Dangerous spikes sprouted from the tops of the walls, and Jareth laughed cruelly, praising his Labyrinth. Yes, see how many trolls came through _next_ time. He allowed the screams of the trolls and the roars of the gremlins to echo through the Labyrinth and over the walls.

Outside the Labyrinth walls, the troll army trembled. They had to have seen the changes to the Labyrinth walls, and wonder what happened to their companions. There _would_ be another attempt, but there would be far less volunteers this time.

Exhausted, he sank to the floor of his throne room. It was a lot harder to work magic without the Heart of the Labyrinth to help him. Thankfully, this was his strong suit. The Goblin King was _meant_ to be the protector, the one that directed the Labyrinth and put obstacles in the way. It was in the giving of boons that he was a lot weaker now. Not that there were many runners that survived the Labyrinth these days. Not a single once since—pain sliced through his chest, and he rubbed it, absently thinking, _Damn her_—his Heart.

His goblins stayed well back from him, aware of his uncertain temper at this time. Far, far beneath the Castle floors, the Instance shuddered and burped. Half a dozen goblin infants came into being around the Instance.

Jareth sighed. _Now?_ he thought at the Instance. _You want me to deal with newborns now?_ The Labyrinth shrugged as if answering.

He looked around the throne room. Several goblins lingered near their king, but were attempting to look busy to avoid censure. "Midge, Rump, Sprinklers," he called out, causing three goblins to jump nervously. "Follow me downstairs. There are newborns to take care of." He stood, regaining his strength. "And for goodness sakes, keep Sir Didymus and Hoggle away from them this time!"

Goblin infants were like chicks. They imprinted on the first beings they saw, and imitated those actions for the rest of their lives. Within a couple months, they were full grown and irreparably set in their ways. He swore both Sir Didymus and Hoggle were trying to incite goblin rebellions in their own frustrating methods. Sir Didymus's goblins were crazed, militant lunatics, while Hoggle's were just ineptly insolent.

He paused. "Ludo can have a couple, if he wants." Ludo's goblins were almost embarrassingly pacifist, but for all that they were strong and loyal. In a way they reminded him of—that jagged pain, _Damn her_— his Heart. He swept out of the throne room, three anxious goblins trailing behind him.

The goblins could not enter the cavern were the Instance existed. Only those that had passed the Trial of the Labyrinth could access that chamber. Jareth walked in alone and retrieved the infants. While no one was looking, he made a funny face at each newborn. They were ridiculously, hideously ugly, the kind of ugly that passes out the other side and emerges as a skewed adorability. The infants gurgled back at him, and one tried to chew his finger with strong, flat teeth. Only minutes old and already teething.

He schooled his face to soberness as he passed the babies to Midge, Rump and Sprinklers. It would not do for people to see the Goblin King doting on his newborn subjects. Word might get around that he was soft, and he was not that. The Trial was meant to be hard. It was—pain, _Damn her_—his Heart that was the nurturer.

Once the babies were taken care of, he took a moment to make sure everything was well with the Instance. As always, he was simultaneously humbled and electrified to be in the same room as it. It looked like a column of pure, blinding light, formed of lightning bolts traveling up and down in a constant stream.

His mind failed to comprehend what he was seeing. The Instance was just that: an instance in reality where everything existed, began, and ended at once. It was the very force of creation and destruction. It was Magic and Life rolled into one. When the Instance dreamed, new creatures were formed and dragged themselves free of this rough-stone womb. The Labyrinth was the cradle of these new forms of life. It sheltered and strengthened them until they made it free of the Labyrinth's outer walls.

When the Instance burped, goblins were formed. Of course, some of the goblins were also children that had been stolen away, but not even Jareth could remember which was which. The Instance was not a living being on its own. It was Power, the same power that had created the worlds, and one day might destroy them as well. The Instance was the source of all magic in the Underground, and without it, life would cease.

That was why the Labyrinth protected the Instance, and limited access to it. To survive the Labyrinth, you had to be more than brave, strong or clever. You had to be _worthy_. That was why the Goblin King must always be one that had passed the Trial of the Labyrinth, and why he was set apart from all family ties and alliances. The keepers of the Instance must be accorded neutral parties, for the Instance had the power to flatten entire worlds without noticing, to rewrite history itself. The Goblin King was not set above the High King of the Fae, but he was set _apart_ from such politics. It was a lonely existence, hence the need for two keepers, the Trial and the—pain, _Damn her_—Heart. No matter. The Labyrinth and the Goblin King would stand strong. They had no other choice.

There was little wonder the Labyrinth was under siege by the troll army. The Troll King was greedy, and like most Fae, desired to increase his power. Most Fae achieved it through politicking and collecting alliances and favors among the Fae court. Jareth was glad to be free of such manipulations. The Troll King had decided to seize power directly.

Unfortunately no one could stand next to such power, to use it, and escape unscathed. Not even immortals could touch the raw force of the Universe itself without coming out unscathed. Even Jareth, for all his powerful magic that was derived directly from the Labyrinth, could remain next to the Instance for more than a couple minutes. What was Life was also Death. To use the Instance was to burn out a brief life like the flare of a match.

Satisfied that the Instance was whole and untroubled, Jareth allowed the pulse of magic to push him from the chamber. Only once the magic was muffled by several layers of solid rock walls did he feel a return to normalcy. Automatically he checked on the Labyrinth. No trace of the trolls remained. All was well in his little world.

Over the next few days, the trolls tried to breach the Labyrinth walls four times. They tried to burrow under the outer walls, as if his influence stopped at ground level and did not extend below it. In truth, the Under-Labyrinth was far more frightening and dangerous than the surface; underneath the stone walls, the Labyrinth remembered every twist and obstacle the previous Goblin Kings had used. Nothing was forgotten; it only lay dormant until called up again. Jareth scoffed as he collapsed the troll tunnel and dropped the workers into one of the oubliettes that connected to a particularly gruesome previous version of the Labyrinth, and promptly forgot them.

The trolls tried to scale the walls. That was an even more ridiculous idea than burrowing underneath. Only the Goblin Kings knew about the Under-Labyrinth, but every fool could see how the walls changed position and shape. The Labyrinth defended itself with the vigor of an offended porcupine, and soon sprouted a forest of spikes, impaling the trolls that thought to climb over. Their bodies were absorbed into the wall, and only served to strengthen the Labyrinth.

Next the troll army attempted to use a battering ram. That one actually tickled Jareth a little—somewhere around the back of his left knee. The Goblin King and the Labyrinth were deeply connected, after all. However, with each strike of the ram, the walls grew thicker by a couple feet, like skin developing a callous, and soon he couldn't feel it at all.

Their final idea made him laugh until he was sick. Using trebuchets, the trolls tried to catapult themselves over the walls. Actually, it wasn't such a bad idea, but they didn't have enough trebuchets to be effective. As it was, all they managed to do was feed his dragons. Overall, Jareth was very pleased with the results of the troll army's assaults.

The Labyrinth was impossible to besiege, for it was the kind of place that is far, far larger _within_ the walls than without. There were enough extensive gardens, farms, and forests to feed all of the Underground indefinitely, let alone the relative small population of the Goblin King's subjects. The walls _could_ be breached by magic, the Labyrinth was not impervious to all harm. However the amount of power it would take to rupture the outer walls was enormous. Only one of the Fae could amass that kind of magic, and only after centuries of gathering it in the first place. Such an expenditure would leave the Fae exhausted, most of his powers spent, once the walls were broken.

So yes, there _was_ danger to the Labyrinth if a strong enough Fae began a determined assault. But after the walls were breached, the offending Fae would be so drained that a child could then lop off his head. The other option was to find a source of magic to power the breaking spell, but founts of magic were difficult to come by, and dangerous to use. After all, the Instance was the greatest source of magic of all.

Technically, the Labyrinth was vulnerable if either the Goblin King or his consort was captured. The Labyrinth couldn't defend against its own magic, as wielded by its caretakers. No matter how hard the Goblin King or the Heart of the Labyrinth fought, the Labyrinth would sooner open its door than allow its monarchs to be hurt. The relationship between the Labyrinth and its caretakers was always symbiotic, not parasitic. One would never drain or damage the other.

Of course, if the Labyrinth _was_ hurt, Jareth felt it on his own body, and would even manifest wounds if the injury was great enough. The reverse was not true. Should Jareth break his leg in the escher room, the Labyrinth would not develop broken walls as well. It would feel his pain, would try to comfort him, but not be injured itself. It was a much larger entity than Jareth, and as such better able to absorb any damage that might be transferred between them.

So far as Jareth was concerned, the Labyrinth was very nearly as safe as it could be, even without—pain, _Damn her_—his Heart. _She_ was in the Aboveground, the mortal realm where no one believed in the Underground anymore. She would be safe there, for no one outside of the Castle even knew that the Labyrinth and Jareth had chosen their Heart. As belief Aboveground waned, travel between the realms became nearly impossible, so that only the most powerful Fae could manage it now. There was no reason to travel Aboveground, for Fae power sharply declined in that polluted world.

As for Jareth, it was impossible to enter the Goblin City or the Castle without the specific permission of the Goblin King, and there were areas where only those that had passed the Trial of the Labyrinth could go, so he was well protected within his realm. He had no reason to travel outside the Labyrinth. He was not beholden to show up to Court functions. Technically he did have family among the Fae nobles, but they had abandoned him to his uncle when he was very young—he had practically been raised by goblins—and he had renounced them when he took up the mantle of the Goblin King so long ago.

His previous lovers would have nothing to do with him, and since finding—pain, _Damn her_—his Heart, he would not go courting again. The only family he deigned to acknowledge was his uncle, dead these past eight centuries, and _her_.

Yes, he felt quite impervious in his own kingdom.

Everything changed in an instant.

He was walking toward the dining room when pain suddenly struck his chest. He cried out and fell. The Labyrinth writhed in panic around him. Something was happening. Something was _wrong_. The pain ripped him apart from the inside. He thrashed on the floor, trying to understand the Labyrinth's horror and his own agony. This was an attack, but how? He was protected on all sides! His fingers clawed at his chest as if he could dig out the source of his pain. This was impossible! Someone had gotten past all his defenses to lay siege to his inner being… No, it came from someone _already_ inside him.

His Heart.

His Heart was… hurt? Under attack? No, _she_ was attacking _him!_ She was destroying him from the inside, reaching through him toward the Labyrinth. She would use his abilities to bring down the walls, to let the troll army swarm through the Labyrinth! How could she do that to him? Why? Why turn against him now when he had left her alone all this time?

The Labyrinth screamed in terror, and he felt it: the taint of troll magic inside him. An insidious poison that entered his bloodstream through his Heart. The Instance roiled with fear, spitting out a dozen new goblin infants and a few other… _things_ that crawled away from the light, born wounded and bleeding. The troll magic burned within him like acid. White-hot rage flashed through him, gave him the strength to rise to his knees, his hand pressed to the walls.

_His Heart had betrayed him!_

She had given him up to the trolls, had allowed them access to her, to _him_! Her sacred duty to protect the Instance was forsaken and cast aside like so much trash. That bitch! He would kill her for betraying him like this! His fury shoved him to his feet, and he strengthened his hold on the Labyrinth. Together they fought against his Heart, though it went against everything they stood for.

With effort they threw off the deceiver. Blood ran from Jareth's nose and stained his shirt. The Labyrinth shivered in fear and pain. Below, goblin newborns cried with no one to comfort them.

"_Sarah Williams!_" Jareth bellowed, his voice ringing through the Labyrinth, the first time he had spoken her name since she left, "_You cannot have the Instance! The Labyrinth is MINE! I will kill you before letting you have them!_" Her death would likely cause his own, but he did not care. He would gladly sacrifice himself to have his revenge and protect the Instance at all costs. The Labyrinth moaned in confusion. Conflict between the Trial and the Heart was unheard of in the entire history of the Underground.

She was somewhere in the Underground. He could feel her, but she was not within his kingdom. She was shielded somewhere, where he could not reach her. A wise precaution on her part, because he _was_ serious about killing her. He could still feel her in his mind, feel that sickly troll-taint eating at him. He was strong enough to resist it for now, but it was like a tooth-ache, slowly wearing at him and growing until it would consume him.

He vowed to _end_ Sarah before then.


	5. Darkness

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed and faved! Last Friday I posted my chapter rather late, so this time I'm posting really early! This is a shorter chapter again, sorry about that. I hope the shifting perspectives are not too jarring to read. Still no J/S action in this chapter, but in the next there will be something. This story really starts to kick off around chapter 7. If you can stick with it that long, I hope you'll find something to enjoy.**

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><p>Chapter 5: Darkness<p>

There was so much darkness, and pain. Sarah shivered uncontrollably, and she couldn't have said if it was from cold, fear, or pain. Her skin prickled with dozens of little scratches, each one only mildly irritating, but all of them adding up until she felt like she's been dragged through a thorn patch. Her upper arms ached with dark bruises in the shape of hand prints. Her calf burned with pain. She could barely walk on it, and suspected there might be an infection.

But her head was the worst of all. She _hurt_, in a deep ache that was far beyond a simple migraine. Her memories were confused and jumbled up, her since of chronology badly damaged. Worse, there was something that _wasn't_ there, something in her mind that was missing. She didn't know what it was, but every time she got close to where it had been, uncontrollable terror seized her, and her conscious mind ran away. She always woke in a different place, with no memory of what she did or how she got there.

She was in such a mystery place now. She avoided the hole in her head as much as she could, because she was afraid of what she might wake up to. There were _things_ down here. She had heard them rustling and hissing, and had pressed her hands to her mouth to stifle her sobs. She didn't want to find out what made that kind of noise. She couldn't see anything, but she was relatively certain that had to do with where she was, and not her vision. At least, she prayed she wasn't blind.

As far as she could tell, she was in a dark, stone cavern. It was very cold down here, and slightly damp. Her hands encountered rough walls, and sometimes came away with moisture. Her throat burned with thirst, but she did not dare sample the liquid she found. She thought… no, she _knew_ she was in the Underground again. She could feel its silent power humming around her, within her, as if something in her soul recognized this place. She had not noticed it when she was fifteen, but perhaps that was because it had been her first visit.

She was lost. She wasn't sure at what point she had broken free from her captors. She remembered… something… bad. Very, very bad that had made her scream and twist away, random images that flashing without order across her vision. Her first visit to the Labyrinth. Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus. Black-gloved hands rolling crystal balls—but that was where her memory shattered, and she had wrenched herself away, torn her mind apart to get away. Something had fluttered in her belly, like delicate wings unfurling, and the next thing she knew she was in this dank cavern.

She thought she had been here for hours, but it was impossible to tell time in the sunless caves. She had wandered for a bit, and accidentally run into some of the other… inhabitants. One of them had clawed her leg, and now she could barely limp on. She wasn't sure how she had gotten free of that one, either.

Some parts of the cavern seemed almost familiar. Was she in an oubliette? If she was, why hadn't… _he_ come for her? Or did he not even know? Oubliettes were places of forgetting; who would think to check for visitors down here? There had been guards chasing her at first, but that had been hours ago. Or days. Her stomach was hollow, and she was light-headed. It was impossible to say how much of that was hunger, exhaustion, or fever.

Other times, she was absolutely certain she had never been to this part of the Underground before. She was not in one of _his_ oubliettes, but a simple cavern owned by no one. But she felt she was… close to something familiar. Or maybe she was simply delirious and had been walking in place this entire time. Lack of sight was a curse and a blessing. She couldn't see how far the tunnels stretched around her, but she also couldn't see how little she had moved. It could have been miles or inches as far as she could tell.

But she couldn't remain down here forever. Walking had gotten her nowhere. She sat down with her back to a curved wall, and tried to think. What did she know? She was in the Underground again, that was a fact. The only creatures she knew here were the goblins, her friends… and _him_.

_He_ was not behind her kidnapping and escape, she was utterly certain of that. They had tried to make her think… but here was the hole in her head again, and she steered clear of it before she could relapse into screaming madness. The creatures that held her were _not_ goblins, she was also certain of that. The goblins, though wildly different in size and shape, had all had similar colors and behaviors.

The creatures that held her were shades of red, not the dark earth-greens and browns of the goblins. It wasn't the cheerful, bright colors of the Fierys either, but like something that was sickly. Her tormentors had been somewhat larger than goblins, and had a rougher, almost piggy look to them. And the cruelty in their dull eyes was nothing like the lively mischief she remembered of goblins. She shivered and rubbed her arms, wincing at the multitude of scratches on her skin. No, the creatures were not shy about using their claws.

And then there was the other one, the one that was not-_him_, but she had no other words to describe her captor. So, what did that leave her? In the Underground, but _not_ with goblins or _him_. Which meant that _he_ was still out there, somewhere. _He_ had once offered her—no, there was that pain, the hole in her head, she couldn't go there. But no matter how cruel _he_ had once been to her, she was never seriously hurt before. Which meant, no matter what, she was a hell of a lot better taking a chance on _him_ than waiting around to be captured or starved to death.

Her voice trembled and cracked as she spoke, but she managed to speak the words.

"I wish the Goblin King would come and take me away, right now."


	6. Reunion

**A/N: Another shorter chapter here, sorry about that! But we finally get to see Jareth and Sarah together. How do you think their first meeting is going to go? This is actually one of my favorite parts in the story so far. And yes, I'm posting early again, because I have a really busy day tomorrow (later on today), but I wanted to make sure I got this out on time. Leave a review if you like it. Leave a review if you dont. :)**

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><p>Chapter 6: Reunion<p>

Jareth felt the tug in his chest, and smirked with grim fury. Someone had made a _wish_, and he recognized who it was. His Heart was no longer shielded. She was very near his Labyrinth, but still outside the walls. He was suspicious of her. Why would she be there, practically under the feet of the troll army? He could only think that she had grown careless since her betrayal—or this was a trap to lure him in. He could still feel the troll-taint inside her, and knew she had not had a change of heart.

She was in a dark place. He would confront her there. He summoned three crystal balls. One he threw in the air to hover above him, emitting a bright light that would dazzle Sarah's dark-accustomed eyes. Into another he channeled the heat of his destructive rage; as soon as it shattered against her, it would obliterate her entire existence. He refused to give in to the pain and grief that ripped at him now, even as the Labyrinth keened sadly. The third ball was his transportation spell. When it broke at his feet, he was instantly called to Sarah's location.

There she was, huddled in a miserable cavern. Incandescent rage coursed through his blood. He would have given her _everything_, and what did she do? She threw it back at his face, _betrayed_ him! Whatever the trolls had promised her in exchange for her cooperation, it was not worth the pain he would put her through now.

He advanced on her, his arm cocked back to throw the last crystal at her. He wanted to see her _face_ when he destroyed her. He didn't care if this was a trap, he would—

"Jareth!"

Her voice tugged at his heart, even though he tried to steel himself against it. She was still his Heart, after all, even if she had betrayed him. He hesitated a split instant. The Labyrinth pushed desperately against his mind, trying to stop him. He wasn't sure if it was his own desires battling against himself, or something more the Labyrinth was trying to tell him. Something was wrong.

Sarah's voice was wrong. Everything about her was _wrong_. She wasn't like he remembered. She was older, that was to be expected with the mortals, but she was too thin. Her skin was very pale, more than could be accounted for by the harsh overhead light. There were deep shadows under her eyes. Her lips were dried and cracked. Was she ill? Her voice was a rasp, but it was her tone that alerted him.

She was not guilty or surprised at seeing him after she betrayed him, and nor was she triumphant at leading him into a trap. What was this? What game was his Heart playing, and why could he not stop himself from being drawn in to it? She rose to her feet, awkward and gawky. He tensed to throw the crystal, but stopped himself. This wasn't what he expected, and he needed to know why.

She stared into his face like a blind man viewing a rainbow for the first time. She met his eyes, and it quickly grew uncomfortable. When a Fae stared into someone's eyes, they saw into the person's mind. He didn't want to see her mind, but even resisting, he saw the surface of her thoughts. His confusion multiplied. Why did her mind look like that? There was no semblance of order or coherence. As the Heart of the Labyrinth, she was every bit as powerful an entity as himself; why had she jumbled her thoughts like this?

His mind brushed against the troll-taint within her thoughts, and he jumped out of her head with a hiss of anger and pain. But he didn't strike her. He couldn't. The crystal remained raised, but his other hand lifted, reaching for her. His gloved fingers brushed her jaw; he wished he wasn't wearing gloves. Her hands shot up and grabbed his wrist hard.

Fury coursed through him. His eyebrows slammed down, and he started to tear himself from her grasp. Until he saw her desperate gaze. Her eyes widened as she recognized his anger. She loosened her hold, but did not release him. No, not restraining him, but _holding_ him, as if for support. His Heart had never needed a single thing from him before, but now she did, clinging to his wrist as if he had come to save her.

He had come to destroy her, but he couldn't. The hand holding the crystal dropped a few inches. One of her hands slowly slipped up his wrist, and curled into his. Unwillingly, his fingers closed around hers. She let out a sound that was half-sigh, half-sob, and then she was breathing very fast. She was _trembling_, and still staring at his eyes. It took all his efforts to keep from being drawn into her mind again.

He could feel a second heartbeat in his chest, and knew it was hers. It was too quick, not pounding with excitement, but shallowly racing. He didn't understand any of this. The Labyrinth was quiet in his mind. The first time he touched his Heart in years should have been a moment of sweet reunion. Her betrayal had turned it to ashes, but now that she was before him, it was as if she was glad to see him. His own heart lurched in his chest, and it was all he could do to keep himself steady.

They might have stayed like that for years, if not for the sound of a scrape behind Sarah. She squeaked in undisguised fear, and _leapt into his arms_. He caught her effortlessly. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to be disgusted with her for betraying himself, the Labyrinth, her duty to the Instance. But he couldn't. _He couldn't_. She felt so _right_ in his arms, against his body. He loved her.

Without thinking he vanished the explosive crystal and conjured another to drop at their feet. Instantly they transported to his bedroom in the Castle. The Instance surged in danger, and the Labyrinth pressed a warning on his mind.

"I know!" he snarled to both of them. Sarah still carried the troll-taint, and he had brought her to his inner sanctum. He was utterly helpless against her now. He had only managed to throw her off before because he was inside the Labyrinth, and she was outside. If she had betrayed him, if she struck him now, he would die as easily as a mortal. But he couldn't have left her behind. Not when she jumped into his arms as if she trusted him with her life.

She was too still and light in his arms. He looked down at her, and in the light of his room he could see more things wrong with her. She was unconscious, her head lolling on his arm. She wore a plain, sleeveless tunic and pants, rough and unadorned. Those were prisoner clothes. Her skin lacked the ruddy color of mortal life, and was paler than his. There were dark black bruises on her arms that matched the shape of his hands so exactly that he panicked that he had unknowingly grabbed and injured her. No, he only held her like this, cradled to his chest. So who had hurt her?

Nor were the bruises the only marks on her. Her skin was pocked with dozens of little triangles from where troll claws had pinched her hard enough to draw blood. And her leg. By goodness, her _leg_—

"Call the physician!" he roared.


	7. Revelations

**A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, or faved! You guys keep me going!**

**Happy November people! I hope everyone had a great Halloween. I still have pink streaks in my hair... Anyway, here is another longer chapter, the longest so far. Like I said before, this is the chapter that I feel really moves the story along. Everything previous is more of an introduction/setting things up. Most of the chapters from here on out are going to be around the 3k mark. I have 18 chapters completed so far. I don't know how long the final story will be. I have everything plotted out, just not written yet. I can say that I think the point where I'm writing is a big turning point for the characters, and the story is probably a little over half, maybe 2/3 done at that point. But I tend to write longer than I expect, so we'll see! If you like it, let me know. If you don't, let me know. :)**

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><p>Chapter 7: Revelations<p>

Lilac was a four-foot tall elf, with skin the same color as her name, and hair a little darker. She had been with Jareth for nearly six hundred years of his reign, and there was no one he trusted more as the Royal Physician. Even still, he hovered as she examined his Heart. Sarah was still unconscious, laying out on a settee in his room. He had scarcely dared to set her down for fear of hurting her. She seemed so _fragile_ now.

Lilac ran her wand—a long, thin, twist of dried lilac stems—along Sarah's body, clucking in disapproval. "You've run this one ragged, Jareth," she said in her squeaky voice.

"It wasn't me," he said hoarsely, but did not otherwise protest. He stared hard at Sarah's unmoving form, anger and confusion spinning inside him.

"She got quite a bit of the troll poison in her," Lilac said, focusing on the three deep gashes in Sarah's calf. Her leg was swollen to nearly twice its size, and was a hot, angry red. Lilac passed her wand over the area slowly, repeating the motion several times. Gradually the redness and swelling constricted around the open wounds, and an orange substance began to ooze out. Once the elf-doctor was satisfied the taint was out, she carefully wiped the orange poison away with a cloth. She reached for the mortal girl's leg again, but another power got there first.

Warmth and swirling blue-brown magic surrounded Sarah's leg. The gashes shrank and closed, leaving only faint lines behind. Lilac glanced up at her king. The Trial of the Labyrinth did not have the magic to heal, so Jareth had used his own personal magic. The look on his face now… No, there had never been any doubt who his Heart was. All the inhabitants had felt the shift in the Labyrinth six years ago, but no one knew what had happened. After observing the King in the following years, she had drawn her own conclusions. She was glad he had found someone at last.

They worked together on the rest of Sarah's body, Lilac removing tiny traces of troll poison from the pinch marks, and both of them healing her. The worst of the poison had been in her leg, and so the work progressed quickly. They had to spend extra time to heal the deep bruises on her arms, for the damage was quite extensive. Lilac recognized the unmistakable shape of the bruises, and frowned at Jareth. He narrowed his eyes at her, but there was no accusation in either gaze. Lilac had seen his lovers after he was done with them, and he had never placed a mark on them.

Once they reached the neck, Lilac made Jareth step outside so she could check under Sarah's clothes. The Goblin King took it in bad humor to be banished from his own bedroom, but relented when she promised to share any findings with him. Once he was gone, Lilac concluded her examination quickly. She breathed a sigh of relief that the child had not been further violated. She allowed Jareth back inside, and answered his dangerous look with a shake of her head. There was a palpable lessening of tension around him.

Lilac reached Sarah's head, and lightly touched her wand tip to the girl's forehead.

The elf recoiled at once. She had sensed the dark knots around the moral's head, but had not realized how bad it really was.

"What is it?" Jareth asked sharply.

"Her mind… has been damaged," she said delicately.

He took a fast breath and held it in. Something like thundercloud roiled behind his eyes. The Labyrinth shivered with anger under their feet. "How much?"

Lilac paused, trying to find the right words. Looking into anyone's mind was a very intimate process, and best done with the full permission of both parties. With Sarah unconscious, the only one that might give consent was a very pissed Goblin King. Lilac believed it was necessary to look into Sarah's mind to ascertain the damage and begin the healing, but knew Jareth was unlikely to want anyone into his Heart's mind. It was the ultimate act of trust.

"I do not know for sure," she said gently. "I think she is mostly worn and confused for now, which will resolve itself with time and rest. But I fear some larger hurt inside her. I cannot know the full extent of the damage unless I look into her mind, though…"

Jareth looked down at his Heart. His hands clenched against the need to touch her. She was resting easier now, her leg and body healed, but she was still too pale and too thin. Finally he nodded. "You'll be careful?"

"You insult me, my lord."

His lips thinned in displeasure, but he did not retract his permission. Lilac reached out and delicately laid her fingers on Sarah's forehead. Jareth could do nothing but watch the elf work. Sarah's brow wrinkled, and she frowned in her sleep. He shifted nearer, resisting the urge to push Lilac away from his Heart.

"It will be well, my love," he murmured, and brushed his fingers down her cheek. He had removed his gloves to heal her, and the touch of skin on skin made him shiver in pleasure. Not so with Sarah. She jerked away from him, a murmur of protest falling from her lips. Anger flashed through him, but he controlled his temper.

How could his Heart pull away from him after the way she jumped into his arms? He resisted the urge to chase her. Hunger stirred in him, ruthlessly quashed. This was not the time to give in to it, and in any case he was still not sure what his Heart had been doing with the trolls. It was impossible to miss the obvious signs of her sojourn with them, but he needed answers.

"Oh, not good," Lilac said, and then Sarah suddenly began screaming. She shoved Lilac away from her. The slight elf fell to the ground, while Jareth tried to comfort Sarah as she continued to scream and try to get away from them.

"Sarah!" he called, grabbing her arms. His hands fit the same place as the bruises he had just healed, he realized in horror. He loosened his grip, careful not to leave fresh marks on her. She looked up at him. He braced himself, remembering her reaction to him in the cavern. Instead, she went into some kind of fit.

"No, no, no!" she howled, struggling against him. She hit him ineffectually, kicking and squirming against him. He fought to hold her down without hurting her, and she grew more desperate. Lilac jumped into the fray and tried to keep Sarah from harming herself. Nothing they did helped, and only seemed to make things worse. Finally Jareth conjured a crystal sphere and pressed it to her forehead, impressing a magic sleep on her.

She went limp. Panting, Jareth and Lilac fell on top of her. "What the _blazes_ was that?" he growled to Lilac, shifting his weight off of Sarah. He saw with horror that the tunic had shifted up, revealing her stomach. He reached out and tugged the shirt back into place, preserving her modesty.

Lilac pushed herself off of Sarah's legs and knelt before Jareth. "Forgive me, my king. I fear I encroached too close to the injured part of her mind, and triggered a flashback to her experience." His tender gesture had not escaped her. Despite his declarations of rage after Sarah's apparent betrayal, she thought it was a good sign if he would take the chance to listen to the girl when she woke.

"What did you learn?" he asked, his voice hard.

Not angry at _her_, Lilac thought, but at the situation and his Heart's pain. "Nothing good," she mourned. "The trolls tried to break into her mind. They know she passed the Trial, and as best as I can guess, they were trying to discover a way through the Labyrinth from her mind."

"That's impossible," Jareth said speculatively. "The Labyrinth is different for every runner that enters."

"Maybe," she agreed, "But they might not have been looking for a specific route as much as _how_ she was able to win through."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "That still would not work, but it might get them closer."

"She fought them, which is part of how her mind was damaged."

Jareth held his breath. She _fought_ them. His Heart fought against the trolls that tried to learn the route through the Labyrinth from her mind. She had not betrayed him, or if she had, by coming to the trolls in the first place, then she had still tried to protect the Labyrinth in the end. A heavy weight on his chest was suddenly lifted. There was still more to her story, but he knew she had not blindly surrendered him. He breathed out shakily.

Lilac cleared her throat. "There is more," she continued. "She fought, but she could not stop them from viewing her memories of her time in the Labyrinth… or at least most of them."

"Most of them?"

"When I approached her memories of you, she began to fight me in earnest. That was what caused her flashback. I tried to draw back gently, but she threw me out. She is still very strong, especially considering the damage in her mind. However, I was trying _not_ to hurt her, and didn't resist her efforts."

"But the trolls did," he clenched his jaw furiously. "_That_ was how she was injured."

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I _believe_ she was able to get herself free before they viewed her memories of you, but doing so tore her mind. Right now she's in pain because of it, but when it heals, it will leave a scar. Some of her memories might not be the same. Some might be missing. I cannot tell _what_ the trolls took from her, she would not let me close enough, but there is something missing."

"She still remembers me," he said promptly. Whatever the trolls took, it wasn't that. And there was more. She had protected _him_. That moment when he thought she was attacking him, she had been under attack by the trolls. He regretted throwing her off now. Maybe he could have helped her, kept her from being hurt, if he had only reached out to her instead. He had misjudged his Heart so badly. The Labyrinth rolled against his mind. It was not an expression of smugness at being proven right, but a reminder that it would always support him—and his Heart.

He could almost imagine the rest of Sarah's story. Somehow she had come upon the trolls, or the trolls had come across her. They sensed her connection to the Labyrinth, and either cajoled or forced her into helping them. After that, she fought against them, protecting him to the point of injury to herself. Somehow she got free. She called on him to save her. She had been glad to see him when he appeared in the cavern. And to think he had gone there with the intent of killing her!

He was simultaneously guilty and furious at both himself and the trolls. He should have protected her better, and not relied on the anonymity of Aboveground to keep her safe. He should have taught her how to use her connection to him and the Labyrinth to protect herself. Thinking of that, he realized something else.

"They didn't know she is my Heart," he said definitively. If they had, they would not have kept her under stricter guard—or killed her outright. Such a blow would have crippled him badly. The magic of the Heart of the Labyrinth would have flown back into the Instance and eventually filtered to him, but the pain of losing his chosen consort was a blow he could not easily bear. His uncle's consort had passed away a century before Jareth came to live with him, but the old Fae had still grieved unendingly.

"No, that much is certain, though they might suspect since she resisted and escaped them so easily," Lilac agreed.

He scowled at her. "You call _that_ easily?" he demanded, pointing at Sarah's sleeping form.

"Compared to someone who should have been only a human runner, yes," she replied, but bowed her head in respect to soften her statement. "A lesser soul would have broken."

"Sarah is not a lesser soul."

"No, she isn't," Lilac agreed. She paused uncomfortably, knowing what needed to be said but fearing Jareth's reaction.

"My lord, there is something you should know," she began carefully.

His face darkened. "Yes," he hissed, and she realized he had already put the evidence together.

Nevertheless, she continued. "The pattern of scratches, the position of her bruises," she looked pointedly at the girl's bare arms where Jareth had grabbed her, "The way they tore her mind, and she had to escape from them…"

"They tortured her," he said flatly. He was not blind. He knew what her injuries meant.

"My lord…"

"They tortured her with _my_ form," he added, confirming that he knew the full extent of the trolls' crimes against his Heart. "But she is not frightened of me. She called on me to rescue her."

"In the caverns, yes, but here in your rooms, your presence made her worse."

He resisted the urge to snarl. "That was just the flashback. She is _not_ afraid of me."

"My lord, I only urge you to caution where she is concerned."

"I have no need of your caution with my Heart!"

"My lord," Lilac bowed, and left his room.

He watched her go, his temper seething. How _dare_ she try to come between himself and his Heart! He would _never_ hurt her! Except… Lilac had seen other women leave his bed and never return. It was true he had a somewhat… unfortunate history with the opposite sex.

After two hundred years of ruling of the Goblin King, he had been somewhat bored and lonely. He was a young, strong Fae after all, and looking for some companionship. He knew he consort must be someone who had passed the Trial of the Labyrinth. Of the three that had made it through since he became king, only one was female, and he was not interested in her. It didn't matter, though. He was not looking for a consort, he just wanted someone to keep him company for a century or two, before they parted by mutual consent.

So he had ventured out from his Labyrinth. The appearance of the Goblin King at any of the Fae functions was seldom enough that he garnered instant attention. It was easy for him to preen for a time, but he quickly discovered he did not want one of the fluttering court beauties that flocked to power and threw themselves at his feet. No, he wanted a woman of strength and substance. And he found one.

He no longer remembered her name. He supposed she had been beautiful, though all other memories paled when he considered Sarah's face. He remembered how she held herself aloof from the court, as if she was as bored by their prattle as him. He pursued her. She resisted enough to make the chase interesting. Both of them knew from the beginning there was no future between them, and were no looking to make anything permanent. There would be no broken hearts here.

And everything seemed right—until the first time they fell into bed together. Their first time was also their last. There was nothing wrong with the passion between them. It existed, and they were each perfectly happy to use each other to find their own pleasure. But something happened. There was a part of Jareth roused by the passion, a corner of his soul that woke up, and it was _hungry_. And so while he was with her, still engaged in their activities, that part of him reached out and _devoured_ her.

She didn't complain of pain, and he didn't leave a mark on her, but afterward two things had changed. She was utterly terrified of him. And he had absolutely no interest in her. They parted, never to talk again. And that was how it had been for centuries. No matter what woman he pursued, the moment they slept together, the same thing happened. No one would ever come to his bed a second time.

At first it did not bother him. It wasn't his fault if the women were not able to keep his interest. As for their fear of him, he figured it was because they could not match his passion. Unlike other Fae who must always hold something back, the Goblin King was beholden to no one, was free to dive into whatever pursuits he cared. He had several women, some of them promised to other men. He was no saint.

But over time, the empty coupling, knowing it was the end, lost its appeal for him. His interest shifted more to the chase than to the conquest. His nature was predatory. The more difficult the woman was to obtain, the greater his pique. Yes, there were times when he had furious Fae men out for his blood, but he never seduced a woman that was truly in love with her mate, nor taken one against her will. Even he had lines he would not cross.

And frankly, more than once the Fae men that had tried to draw his blood returned to thank him. After a night in Jareth's bed, the women returned to their lovers shivering and more devoted than before. And there was no risk he would ever permanently steal one of them away. His own nature, his position as the Goblin King, guaranteed that.

Jareth freely admitted he was a hunter. He made no secret of it, and by this point his exploits were infamous. To be singled out by the Goblin King was to ensure both fame and infamy. They were safe to enjoy his attentions so long as they did not sleep with him. The pleasure was in drawing it out, resisting their urges as long as possible. But eventually, they all said yes. And there was never a second time.

Jareth could not treat Sarah like that. He wouldn't. He wasn't sure how it was supposed to work between them, with her as his consort but unable to sleep with her. But he would not expose her to the hunger inside him, nor allow her to face his indifference once the act was done. She was too important for him to treat her like any of the others, to be used and discarded.

He had not taken a lover for more than a century before her birth. He had been restless and hot-tempered, but unable to find a single woman to rouse his interest. Not until Sarah. Now she was the only one he would ever want, and the only one he could never have. No matter. He was not a randy young Fae anymore. His centuries gave him the maturity to resist his primal urges. It was vitally important that he protect his Heart, even from himself.

He watched her sleeping for a while. She was still in the same position she had been when he managed to send her to sleep, sprawled half-on the settee with her legs hanging over the side. That did not look very comfortable. He reached out to rearrange her limbs and paused. The settee was really too small for a grown adult to sleep comfortably, even one as slight as Sarah. He glanced around, but there was no one to observe them. They were in his _bed_chamber, after all.

Making the choice, he stooped down and picked her up. He staggered with how light she was. She needed more meat on her bones. He had a feeling her small stature was not just from her stay with the trolls.

_What ails you, my Heart?_ he asked silently as he carried her to his bed. He hated the prison clothes she was wearing, but they had been cleaned by magic, so for now he left them on her. He would need to assign a lady's maid to her, to assist with dressing and bathing, he realized. Perhaps one of Lilac's kin was looking for a new position.

Magic turned down the covers on his bed, and he gently placed her on the sheets. He tucked her in, his fingers lingering on the curve of her cheek. His hunger, his desire to possess, stirred, but was easily controlled. He did not truly desire her when she was unconscious. It was just the sight of her on his bed that was oddly alluring, and endearing.

He felt a stir of tenderness that was unfamiliar to him. Never before had he felt the urge to care for one of his previous lovers. He had done so, but only as a method to woo them. This was different… natural. And just as dangerous to Sarah as his hunger. He pushed the feeling away sternly, knowing he could not allow himself to indulge in his emotions.


	8. Temper

**A/N: I get a little thrill when I wake up and realize it's New Chapter Day... Thanks to those who are reading my story. This is another of my favorite chapters. We get more clues as to Sarah's condition, and the challenges the characters have to face.**

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><p>Chapter 8: Temper<p>

Sarah slept for thirty-nine hours. After the first twenty-six, he removed his sleep spell and called in Lilac to examine her again. He did not apologize to the elf for his harsh words, but she had known him long enough to realize allowing her to view his Heart while she was still vulnerable _was_ a kind of apology. Lilac did not attempt to scry Sarah's mind again, but pronounced her to be in otherwise good health. Lilac advised him to allow Sarah as much rest as she needed, and only try to wake her if she slept for another full day.

Thirteen hours later, Jareth woke with the taste of fear on his tongue. Not his fear, but his Heart's. He could feel her heartbeat in his chest, too fast to be normal. He stirred, feeling a crick in his neck from sleeping on the settee. If it was too small for Sarah, it was certainly too small for him, but it wasn't like he was about to join her in bed. Even if it was his _own_ bed.

His eyes sought Sarah. She was awake for the first time since being brought here. She was still in the bed, the covers pulled up until only her eyes and a sliver of forehead showed. And she was looking at him with undisguised terror. His mouth went dry. No, this wasn't how she was supposed to see him. What happened to the woman who called on him in the caverns? _She_ hadn't been afraid of him. He sat up cautiously, trying not to scare her further. Sunlight from the window fell across his face. There was a distinct sigh of relief from the bed.

"Jareth?" Sarah asked timidly, revealing a little more of her head.

_Who else?_ he almost replied snidely, before remembering what she had likely gone through. Anger pulsed through him. The trolls had used _his form_ to torture his Heart. It was in his nature to be predatory, even cruel, but there was a time and a place for everything. He schooled his expression, and nodded.

"Hello Sarah." He conjured a crystal to summon Lilac, and let it roll away from him.

Sarah pushed down the blankets and sat up in the bed. He ground his teeth, the Labyrinth rumbling with an echo of his anger. She was still too thin and pale, more like a skeleton than the robustly healthy child he remembered during her first visit to the Underground. Her eyes were sunken in her face, darker and wider than normal. She stared at him with the same intensity as in the cavern. He looked away. He had no desire to be drawn into her mind again.

"May I offer you some water?" he asked as he rose smoothly. He called in another crystal and sent it to the kitchens with an order for breakfast. Until then, he could offer her a glass of water from the pitcher already in his room. He moved toward it. His chest kicked with her ratcheting heartbeat. She shrank against the headboard, pulling the covers up as if to protect herself.

"Jareth?" she squeaked in confusion.

Frowning, he looked at her. Her face cleared, and her position relaxed. Did she think he would harm her? The trolls might have used his appearance to torture her, but surely she knew _he_ would never hurt her? No, he could see it clearly now. She was not afraid of him when she was watching him like this. He felt a tug at his senses as she threatened to pull him into her mind. Blinking against it, he turned away and finished his journey to the table containing the water pitcher.

Her breath caught in her throat. Before she could question him again, he faced her. She released her breath. Alright, so when he was facing her, she was not afraid. When he looked away, she panicked. He could not pretend to understand why, but he would do what he must to keep her calm. He could not look at her face, for her eyes never left his. It was not safe to meet her gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, so he stared over her head. That seemed enough to satisfy her.

She cleared her throat softly. He glanced at her and looked up again. He felt a flicker of annoyance despite himself. Did humans have no concept of how rude it was to stare? Even without the danger of looking into another's mind, sure they must have some idea of how intimate the act was?

"You came for me," she said quietly.

He dared to look at her for a short time before moving his gaze. "You called," he said, and it came out harsher than intended.

"Thank you."

Now he felt a fresh surge of guilt, knowing he had not come to rescue her. He had thought the worst of her. He still blamed her for leaving and shattering his heart and power six years ago. Was that reason enough to accuse her without knowing the details? His stiffened his spine. Of course it was. He'd felt the troll-magic burning inside him; how was he to know she had not been a willing participant?

"Do not mistake me for a lover, Sarah," he warned.

"No, little chance of that," she agreed sadly.

And _that_ hurt worse than when he thought she'd betrayed him. He did not answer.

There was a knock on the door, and Jareth opened it with a wave of his hand. Lilac walked in briskly, but paused as she took in the awkward silence. Jareth could not imagine what she saw, Sarah in bed, staring at him without relent, him standing almost at attention across the room, neither daring to look at the human nor away from her.

Sarah glanced at the elf, but almost at once stiffened and looked back to Jareth. _Interesting_, he thought, studying her features without meeting her eyes. This time it was she who looked away, but it still caused the same reaction. Whatever the trolls had done to her, unless she kept her eyes squarely on him, she panicked. Lilac's presence was troubling her as well. Her brow was furrowed as she tried to look at the physician without taking her eyes off of him. Her breathing was fast and shallow, revealing her stress.

He took pity on her, and moved to stand near Lilac so her attention would not be split. He forgot to make sure she could see his face as he walked away.

"No!" Sarah slammed herself back against the headboard. He whirled toward her, but the panic already had her in its grip. Her eyes were wide and unseeing. She raised her hands to fend them off, nascent sparks of magic falling from her fingertips. He would have been proud of her had he not been worried for her safety.

"Stop that," he commanded sharply, and when she did not react, he reached for the connection to his Heart, and jerked the magic from her weak grasp. She screamed, her arms flailing uselessly. She hit the headboard hard enough to leave more bruises as she scrambled back from them.

Jareth and Lilac acted as one to try to help her, but it was hopeless. She fell off the bed, landing hard enough to jar the breath from her body. Jareth felt the shock of it in his own chest. In an instant he had leapt over the bed and seized her in his grasp. Remembering how the sight of him had calmed her before, he grabbed her arms to stop her from harming herself.

"Look at me," he demanded, leaning over her in the shadow of the bed. "Look at me, Sarah."

But somehow that made it all worse. She went into some kind of mindless fit, eyes screwed tight and head turned away from him.

"My lord, you'll hurt her," Lilac warned, trying to keep Sarah's head from smashing against the floor boards.

He snarled wordlessly at the physician—only to realize she was right. His inhuman strength was keeping Sarah at bay, but her fragile body was still battering herself dangerously. He pressed a crystal to her head, sending her into another magicked sleep. She went limp. He dumped her in Lilac's arms and stood with a roar of frustration. Spinning on his heels, he threw another crystal as hard as he could across the room. It exploded with a _boom_ of heat and light. Flames shrieked up the walls, in danger of catching the entire room on fire before he ruthlessly crushed them with his will.

Turning back to Sarah and Lilac, he gathered the frail human in his arms. Lilac wisely did not resist him. Though he was panting and trembling with rage, he was gentle as he sat on the bed and cradled the unconscious human to him.

"What the blazes was that?" he demanded.

"I don't know, my lord," Lilac replied, "I might ask the same of you."

He growled, peeling back his lips to bare pointed teeth at her. She met his eyes for a bare second before quickly dropping her gaze. Several minutes passed before he was able to control his harsh breathing. "I don't know," he managed at last.

Lilac glanced at him, and seemed to feel the worst of the danger had fled. "Would you share what happened?" she asked gently.

He looked down and ran one gloved hand over Sarah's dark hair. Even in sleep she looked haunted, her brow still furrowed, her breath quick pants through her nose. He reached for the connection to his Heart again, and this time used it to hold her closer to him. Eventually she settled into a more peaceful rest. Still, he couldn't put her down as he described everything that happened since Sarah woke.

"Would you allow me to examine her?" Lilac prompted.

"Not her mind," he declared harshly.

"Of course not."

He clung possessively to her as the physician ran her wand over Sarah's body.

"She does not appear to have taken too much damage, but she needs nourishment," was Lilac's analysis.

"I was having breakfast brought—"

"My lord!" a squeaky goblin interrupted. "I have brought the tray you requested."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Place it on whatever surface you can find," he said shortly. The goblin—Brazier—chose the low table in front of the settee, but not before making an exclamation at the damage to his room.

"You may go," he snapped at the creature, and Brazier was only too glad to comply. He looked back at Lilac. "Well? What are your conclusions?"

She eyed him carefully. "I fear you shall not like them, my lord."

"You have leave to speak whatever you will. I shall not retaliate."

"I think it clear that the relationship between your presence and her panic must be further explored and defined. However, it is not good to keep the child in a constant state of sleep when her emotions cannot be controlled. If she is not able to take in nourishment soon, she will begin to suffer. I think it best that you are not present when she wakes again."

"No," he said flatly. At the moment, he could not envision a single scenario that could convince him to release Sarah from his arms. That was when he knew. Sarah had come back to the Underground, was back in his kingdom. He would not let her escape again. That hungry part of him roared in approval. Sarah was _his_. He would not let her go a second time.

Lilac's lips thinned. "And do you suppose that finding herself in your arms when she awakes will not cause an immediate panic attack again?"

He growled, but knew the physician was right. "Alright," he ground out, "But not yet." Something inside him was still shaking after Sarah's latest panic. He realized it was fear for her. Until he could reassure himself that she would be well, he wouldn't be able to set her down.

"I think the most important thing to help this child is to isolate the differences in her reaction to you."

He closed his eyes in an attempt to ward off a headache. "Smaller words, elf." He considered himself as intelligent as any other Fae—and rather cleverer, for he was the Goblin King—but when he was at the edge of his control, he was more of a creature of primal instincts. The fire damage in his bedroom could attest to how thin his temper was at the moment.

Lilac sighed impatiently. "She reacts differently to you at different times. When I came in, you were carefully facing her, but not looking at her face. You didn't want to be drawn into her mind?"

He nodded.

"Now, when she looked at me, she became fearful until she looked at you again. When you turned from her, her panic set in. She _should_ have calmed when you faced her again, but she did not. Indeed, it became much worse when you tried to confront her and make her look at you."

"I did _not_ hurt her," he snarled.

"I did not say you did. But it is important that we find out _why_ she did not calm while viewing you. If we are to have any hope of healing her mind, we must learn how to pull her out of the terror without sending her to sleep."

"Alright, what is the difference?"

"I don't know! It might take several experiments before we discover the extent of her triggers."

He went cold and hard. _No one_ was going to experiment on his Heart. Lilac blanched.

"Of course I did not mean it like that," she back-peddled quickly, "I only meant that if we are to help her, we need to avoid causing her panics until she can control them. Unfortunately, you appear to be one of her triggers, which could make your… protectiveness an issue. When you are able to calm her, that is a good thing, but when it exacerbates her condition, it poses a danger to her well-being."

Lilac's words made sense, even if he did not like them. "You are a trigger too," he said bluntly.

"Pardon me?" The elf blinked in surprise.

Jareth smiled sharply. "Yes, you. She was worried by your presence in the room. She kept trying to look at you without looking away from me. Perhaps you reminded her of a troll."

"Instance forbid," the elf shuddered. "Then you turned away to stand near me, and that began her panic. Perhaps there is something about your face. When she sees it, she is reassured, when she does not, fear takes hold."

"Then why would she not look at me when I grabbed her?"

Lilac pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Perhaps she was too far gone into the panic by then, or she could not view you clearly."

He tilted his head to the side. They _had_ been in shadow when he grabbed her. His Fae eyes saw easily through most darkness, but he was unsure how well humans saw without light.

"Perhaps she was dazzled by my stunning beauty," he drawled arrogantly.

Lilac's eyebrows rose. If he could make snide comments like that, he was clearly calming down as well. He sighed heavily. "What do you propose, then? Do we wake her now?"

Privately the elf thought there was still no chance of prying the girl from the Goblin King's arms. There was a _reason_ he had been chosen as the protector of the Instance, and his stubbornness tended to translate to all aspects of his life.

"Not yet," she said, for safety's sake. "I would recommend she sleep for an hour, and then you remove the spell from her. If she is ready to wake, she will begin to stir shortly. Once she rouses, maybe you could introduce us so that I am not a foreign presence, and then excuse yourself before you unknowingly trigger her. Since she does not know me, once we are introduced, I should not be such a trigger any longer."

"And what would you do to her," he asked in a soft, dangerous tone, "While I am out of the room?"

"You would not need to go far, only out of sight," she said cautiously. "And I swear to you, as your physician, that my greatest concern is for her well-being and safety. I would only urge her to eat and try to ascertain any of her needs."

He reluctantly agreed. Lilac retreated a prudent distance to leave Jareth to his Heart. He set three crystals to circling the breakfast tray, emitting heat to keep the food warm. He held the woman against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His cheek pressed to her hair in an unprecedented show of consideration. It was a gesture more born of his need for his Heart than of hers for him.

The better part of an hour passed in silence before he shuddered and said, "Alright. Alright." His arms loosened, and he set the woman on the bed, but did not leave her side. His hand rested on her hair, his eyes never leaving her face as he spoke to the physician.

"Do you have any family that would be willing to take up the position of a lady's maid?" he asked Lilac.

"Zinnia might," she responded.

He nodded. "See to it. And when you have secured a lady's maid for Sarah, the first thing I want is for these _disgusting_ clothes to be removed from her." His hand clenched on the shoulder of the tunic as if he would rip it off now. "I want only the finest materials against her skin."

"It will be done, my lord."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then are we ready for this?"

"My lord, I hesitate to speak, but your proximity—"

"Do _not_ try to separate me from my Heart!" he yelled viciously.

"I would not dare."

He leveled a flat gaze at the elf, but she knew better than to look at him in that moment. "Very well," he said heavily, and rose from the bed. He stood near the door to make a hasty exit, but just to be sure, he positioned himself in a shaft of light so Sarah would see him clearly. "Near me, Lilac. Do not make her look two places at once."

The elf carefully hid a prickle of unease at allowing the still-volatile Goblin King at her back. Still, it was better to comply than to risk his wrath. She placed herself to his satisfaction and waited for him to lift the sleep spell. He did so, and Sarah began to move at once.

"Sarah," Jareth called to her, his voice gone hoarse.

She stiffened, her breath choking on a scream. Her eyes flew open, found Jareth—and sighed in relief.

"Jareth," she acknowledged.

Lilac studied every minute reaction between the Goblin King and his Heart, knowing he would be too focused on the girl to be of use. Sarah's eyes were fixed on Jareth's, but not with the blank stare of someone in a trance. For the moment at least, she was in full control of her facilities.

"This is Lilac," Jareth said, indicating the elf in front of him. "She is the royal physician, and will not harm you. I would appreciate it if you would allow her to help you.

Sarah blinked in surprise, glancing at the elf for the first time. Despite being a purple, four-foot tall person standing in front of the Goblin King, the mortal had not noticed her until this moment, so complete was her focus on Jareth. Now that Sarah realized they were not alone, she was uneasy. Her shoulders tensed as she studied Lilac, looking back to Jareth every few seconds.

Lilac realized the human was worried about her presence. She seemed to have every confidence in Jareth, while he was standing still and facing her, but was wary of any others.

Finally Sarah nodded and said, "Okay."

Lilac wondered whether the girl was placing her trust in Jareth again, or had decided that Lilac did not present a threat on her own. The next part would be tricky, the elf knew.

"Alright. I'm going to leave you, now," Jareth's voice almost broke. "Listen to Lilac. You can tell her any concerns you have." He did not move, but stood there for another minute.

Sarah's hands tightened on the blankets at the mention of his leaving, her distress clear in her eyes. Jareth _needed_ to leave, Lilac thought. Sarah was using him as a crutch to keep her fear at bay. Until he was gone, it would be impossible to determine how much control Sarah had. However, it was worth more than Lilac's life to tell the Goblin King to leave. She remained silent, still observing the interaction between the lovers.

Sarah nodded her understanding, not looking happy about it. Jareth took a few short breaths, clearly controlling his temper. It was probably taking everything in him to not kick Lilac out and go to his Heart. Lilac's spine tingled, acutely aware of her vulnerability to the being behind her.

"Alright," Jareth said roughly, and backed toward the door. Sarah tensed with each step away from her, and when he turned to leave there was an instant of terror that fortunately ended when he was out of sight.

In the hallway outside his room, Jareth spun and leaned his forehead on the door. His hands pressed to the wood, as if he could sink through the door and emerge in the room again. He _could_ do it, but he wouldn't. Leaving had been far harder than he'd thought. Everything in him screamed that his Heart _needed_ him. The next time that Lilac suggested that he leave his Heart, he was going to the dump the physician in the middle of the Labyrinth.

Within the room, Lilac continued to study Sarah. The girl watched the door close with both fear and longing in her eyes. Sarah looked at the elf. It was clear Sarah didn't like being left alone with an unfamiliar person, but for now the panic was at bay.

"That was Jareth?" Sarah asked uncertainly.

Lilac filed that away as a clue. It appeared the girl suffered from a kind of short-term memory loss, or perhaps a modified form of face-blindness. While looking at the Goblin King's face, she recognized and trusted him, but the second the sight was lost, she literally forgot who he was. Lilac suspected the forgetting was part of the hole in Sarah's mind, and the panic that accompanied it was the result of the torture the trolls had put her through.

"Yes, Lady Sarah," Lilac spoke in a carefully modulated tone. "That was the Goblin King. My name is Lilac, and I am a physician as he said. May I approach to examine you?"

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><p><strong>AN 2: I have a question for you guys. What do you think of Jareth? I've been struggling to walk a line between a complete dark!Jareth, and a puppy!Jareth who is completely love stricken. The man has some pride after all! (Or at least I've been trying to portray him as such.) This Jareth tends to be temperamental and somewhat possessive, but I tried not to make it completely overwhelming that he has no room for softness. On the other hand, I didn't want to make him so sentimental he can't man-up and get things done. What do you guys think? I appreciate your input! I'm going to ask a similar question about Sarah in a few more chapters, after we get to see her do something more than sleep and scream. I worry I might have made her too passive compared to movie!Sarah.**


	9. Confusion

**A/N: Thanks for your reviews! This is another shorter chapter, and we get to see what Sarah thinks of everything that's going on.**

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><p>Chapter 9: Confusion<p>

Lilac was… okay, Sarah guessed. Heck, the elf was one of the more normal people she had ever met in the Underground, and so far the least threatening encounter during her visit. Except for Jareth, of course. Only he was… hard to hold on to. Sarah couldn't explain it to herself, except that sometimes she _saw_ him, and knew exactly who he was. Other times, it took nothing at all to remind her of the… _other_ one, the _not_-Jareth, the one that had hurt her, and she couldn't tell them apart.

She shivered, instinctively rubbing her hands over her arms where the bruises had been. Lilac noted her reaction with dark purple eyes that saw everything. The elf reminded Sarah of a school nurse, matronly but stern. She was coolly competent at her job, but not someone Sarah could ever imagine making a joke.

Lilac made her a cup of tea, and urged her to eat something. There was a sumptuous breakfast of eggs and sausage and bacon, biscuits and gravy, pancakes and waffles, and every other breakfast item she could think of, but the only thing Sarah could swallow right now was a bit of dried toast. Her stomach clenched in a hard knot of dread. Her hands shook at random moments, and she didn't know _why_. So long as she kept nibbling on the toast and sipping tea, Lilac did not press more food on her.

"Can you tell me what happened to you?" Lilac asked with all the warmth of a clinician. The impersonal tone actually helped Sarah gather herself.

"I guess so," she shrugged. Everything was still jumbled and confused in her mind. Most people said start at the beginning, but she couldn't tell _what_ the beginning was. Thankfully, Lilac appeared to understand this, and provided her with prompts.

"Do you know how you came to be in the Underground?"

She thought back. She remembered… a grey world, lifeless until there was a shock of color. Her mind quickly scattered away from that image as if it was too frightening to behold. "I'm… not sure. I think I was… taken?" She could not remember putting up a fight if she was taken against her will, but she clearly knew that she had _not_ given permission to be brought Underground.

"And what happened then? What do you remember before the Goblin King found you?"

Sarah began shaking. "I don't know," she whimpered. "I don't know!" Only that it was awful, and it hurt, and she didn't want to remember, but she was back there again, and oh how it _hurt!_

"Lady Sarah, come back now," Lilac said coolly. "You are no longer there. You are safe now, no one will hurt you."

Slowly, the red in Sarah's vision retreated. She was trembling uncontrollably, her skin clammy with sweat. She had crushed the toast in her hand, and now there were crumbs all over the bed. "Sorry," she muttered, ashamed of her reaction. "And please don't call me Lady." She had done nothing to earn the respect

"Don't be," the elf said briskly, brushing away the crumbs and placing another piece of toast in her hand. Sarah couldn't eat, and her fingers began nervously crumbling it.

Lilac sighed. "That bread is for eating, not shredding. If you need something to do with your hands, I will give you a ball of string."

For some reason that made Sarah feel better, and she laughed. It was brittle and sharp, but relieved the awful pressure in her chest. "Okay," she agreed. Lilac was not satisfied until Sarah had eaten at least half the slice of toast, and then began her questions again.

"Do you know where you are?"

Actually, she didn't. She blinked in surprise and looked around herself for the first time. She was lying in a huge four-poster bed. The room around her was larger than her studio had been, sumptuously furnished with dark, masculine colors of blue velvets, gold satins, and polished cherry-woods. Her eyes widened at the massive fire damage on one side of the room, but Lilac did not seem at all concerned about it.

"In a room?" she hazarded a guess.

Lilac's lips thinned, as if Sarah was being flippant.

Sarah shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know," she said hastily.

"You are in the Castle beyond the Goblin City," the elf took pity on her.

Sarah's eyes went unfocused with memory. "The Labyrinth…" she whispered, and it was like she could suddenly _feel_ those stone walls around her again. She should have known. It always began and ended with the Labyrinth.

"Indeed," Lilac confirmed. "You are currently residing in the most heavily fortified place in the Underground. You need not fear that anything might make it through those walls to hurt you." There was a glint in those purple eyes that Sarah might have almost called humor.

Sarah smiled timidly. Lilac's expression softened, and suddenly she looked a lot warmer than before.

"Lady Sarah, would you allow me to help you out of those clothes and into something else?" the elf asked. "You might not be aware, but those are the clothes our prisoners wear, and it upsets his majesty to see you in them."

She looked down at the plain, rough tunic and pants. "I'm sorry," she whispered. It seemed to her that Jareth and Lilac were going through a lot of trouble for her, when she wasn't worth anything to them.

"Why are you sorry?" Lilac asked in surprise.

Sarah shrugged, her eyes burning with tears. "I don't know." But she allowed Lilac to undress her, and place her in a large, flowing white shirt that was gloriously soft. Sarah did not question where the shirt had come from, or the other masculine clothes in the wardrobe she saw. Normally she would be self-conscious and body-shy in front of a stranger, but it was like that part of her hadn't woken yet. She was shocked at the sight of her own body. She was gaunt to the point of sickness, her skin loose and sagging, her joints standing out like knobs, her ribs almost sharp enough to cut through her flesh.

It was the worst she had ever seen herself, and a hard blow to her self-esteem. She _needed_ Lilac's help to get dressed. Her legs could barely hold her up, and she was trembling with exhaustion before they were through. Lilac helped her back into bed, and instructed her to sleep. Sarah was only too glad to comply.


	10. Headaches

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read the story! No one has pelted me with rotten tomatoes yet, so I guess it's not too awful. After the chaos of the beginning, this is where life starts to settle into routine for our dear characters. Everyone has some adjustments to make, and for the first time we get to see Sarah's friends. I'm going to warn you now, I don't write in accents. I never have, I'm awful at it, so I probably never will. So just imagine they sound the same way as in the movie, if it makes you happy, because I have no ability to display that in type. Sorry!**

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><p>Chapter 10: Headaches<p>

Jareth was still waiting outside the door as Lilac slipped out of the room. His narrow-eyed look was enough to confirm that he was still aggravated at being kept from his Heart. "In my study," he said shortly, and dropped a crystal to transport them. Lilac _hated_ teleportation by magic, but allowed Jareth his petty revenge without comment.

Inside his study, he walked to the door that connected to his room and opened it. He peered silently at the sleeping woman for several minutes, before quietly shutting the door. The slight reconnection to his consort helped to settle his nerves. He crossed his arms over his chest as he turned to regard Lilac.

"Well?" he demanded.

"You heard everything we said?" she asked.

He nodded impatiently. "Your conclusions?"

Lilac sighed. "She is very traumatized, but I think she has the strength to overcome it, given enough time and rest. That is what she needs more than anything else at the moment, and a familiar face to support her."

"I _am_ a familiar face," he pointed out crossly.

Lilac hesitated, and then nodded and shared her theory of Sarah's disassociation with his appearance. By the end, Jareth was growling and pacing the study.

"What can I _do_ to help her?" he demanded. Only his awareness of Sarah in the next room prevented him from shouting.

"For now, I suggest we limit her visitors," Lilac said. "As she recovers, she may wish to see the friends she made on the first trip through the Labyrinth, but as if this moment, it is more important that she is not overwrought. With your permission, I would bring in my niece, Zinnia. Between her, myself, and you, we can see to Sarah's needs until she is ready to face the world."

"See to it," Jareth ordered sharply. As far as he was concerned, there would be no delay in anything Sarah needed. "What role do you have for me to play in this?" he asked narrowly. So far Lilac's advice seemed sound, but the moment he didn't like what she said, he was going to do his own thing. He had no idea what that was, when his presence was both a trigger and an aid to Sarah, but he would think of something. All he knew was that he would be spending as much time as possible with his Heart.

"Yes, I would not dare to exclude you from her care," Lilac said drily. "However, you should take care to position yourself in the light so that she might always see your face. I imagine it will be a while yet before she does more than eat or sleep. She is in very poor condition."

"I saw," his voice was rough with strangled rage.

"When she starts spending more time awake, we will see what she can handle."

"She will handle it," he was confident. "She is strong, my Sarah."

"No, I didn't imagine you would choose someone who wasn't, but it will be difficult on all of us, not just her, for the time being."

As Lilac had predicted, the next few days were fraught with trial and error and—on Jareth's part—headaches. The first headache came because he could not forgo the running of his kingdom, and he resented every moment not spent with his Heart. Ogres had joined the trolls in besieging the Labyrinth. He was not overly worried about the greater forces opposing the Labyrinth, but it was yet something else that tried to draw his attention from Sarah.

There were almost daily incursions into the Labyrinth that he had to deal with, and a multitude of reports from every corner of his kingdom for him to read and respond to. He turned the low table in front of the settee into a temporary work desk. It was the only way he could spend more time with Sarah, and be there for her whenever she woke. The problem was that he kept forgetting and putting his feet up on the table. More than one of his missives was rendered half-illegible by the print of his boots.

As if facing outward threats wasn't enough, he was soon facing an insurrection from within—when Sarah's friend discovered she was in the Castle. Goblin gossip traveled faster than thought, and there was no hope of hiding her presence from them. The three of them confronted Jareth in the courtyard one morning, led by Hoggle and surrounded by their respective posse of goblins.

It was four days after Sarah had called to him in the caverns, and the last night had been particularly hard for everyone. He was in no mood to accommodate other people. At the same time, he knew Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus were trying to see Sarah, and the sooner he told them to stop, the less likely they were to break into his quarters by force and upset Sarah further.

"We want to see Sarah," Hoggle demanded without preamble. The dwarf planted his hands on his hips, looking even more surly and disgruntled than usual. Hoggle's goblins were similarly stubborn and suspicious, as if they were prepared to hold Jareth down to get past him.

Jareth gritted his teeth. He'd planned the confrontation in the courtyard so there was no chance of it being overhead by Sarah. "You can't," he said shortly.

"You mean you won't let us," Hoggle sniffed.

"Take your pick," he ground out. "You still won't see her."

"She wouldn't want to be cooped up with nothing but a rat like you for company!"

Hoggle's words hit him particularly hard. Last night flashed in Jareth's mind. He'd been sleeping on the settee when Sarah began to whimper from a nightmare. He had gone to her, and tried to stir her from the nightmare without waking her. He hadn't conjured a light, just stroked her hair and back soothingly. Unfortunately, she woke, and upon finding his dark figure kneeling beside her on the bed, had reacted as if he were a demon come to force her.

He called frantically for Lilac and Zinnia, had tried to make Sarah look at his face—he made a light at her first scream—but she was too far gone in her terror. He was forced to put her out, _again_, and this time whenever they tried to lift the spell, she went right back into her terror. It took more than six hours before she slept off her horror of him. He couldn't lie; knowing that he had caused such a massive set back made him feel like the Bog of Eternal Stench.

He rounded on the dwarf furiously. "No? And do you suppose she has been pining for your company? I can honestly say she has not spoken a single word about any of you!" He laughed cruelly. "Now, no matter how much you want to see her, or think I am keeping her captive against her will, I will tell you that she is in no condition to see you. If you care for her, as her _friends_, you will leave her alone and let her recover in peace!"

Stunned silence greeting his declaration. He glared at each of them, daring them to argue further. Sir Didymus, his goblins lined up in a crooked military fashion behind him, was the first to be brave.

"Recover, sire? Has the fair lady taken ill?" the little fox-creature piped up.

Jareth remembered Sarah's screams, the frantic way she tried to get away from him, her nightmares and sobs, the way he couldn't even stay in the same room as Lilac and Zinnia tried to comfort her. She was his Heart, and he was not allowed to _touch_ or _hold_ her when she needed succor. Shame burned in his veins.

"She was captured by the trolls," he said in a low, bitter voice. "They hurt her before she broke free. The slightest disturbance now threatens to send her into a panic attack."

There was horror on all three faces. Ludo summed it up the best.

"Sarah hurt?" the rock-caller crooned in his deep, slow voice.

"Yes," Jareth spat, feeling his failure to protect his heart keenly.

"Ludo sad. Sarah get better soon." The big creature lumbered forward. "For Sarah." He dropped a sizeable stone into Jareth's hand.

Jareth went incandescent with rage, and nearly crushed the gift in his hand. The giving of gifts was an important part of Fae courtship. To give something to a woman already claimed by another Fae was a declaration of the intent to seduce her. Except this was _Ludo_, and he didn't think Ludo wanted to seduce Sarah.

And then he felt the warmth in his hand. He looked down, and realized what he had taken for an oblong stone a little large than his fist was anything but. It was a rock baby, an incredibly rare and ancient creature of the Underground. He'd thought they were all extinct ages ago. Trust the rock-caller to find something so scarce and precious.

This infant was probably four times older than Jareth, and it was still considered a newborn by its kind. Rock babies slept for centuries at a time, waking for only a few minutes each millennium to eat the minerals it needed to grow. While they slept, they emitted a feeling of benevolence and warmth. Sarah would definitely benefit from the rock baby's soothing presence.

"I will see that she gets it," he said, somewhat humbled by Ludo's offering. "And I will inform you when she is ready to accept visitors." He did not like the way these three questioned him—and led their goblins to do the same—but he could not fault their loyalty to their queen.

The Castle staff became another source of contention for Jareth. There were a few dwarfs like Hoggle, and some elves like Lilac and Zinnia, as well as a decent handful of other Underground races, but most of his staff were goblins. Knowing that Sarah might not have pleasant associations with goblins after her first visit to the Labyrinth, he ordered them to keep out of her sight.

Unfortunately, though she didn't see any goblins, Sarah still heard and occasionally felt them rushing by her. Being surrounded by unseen creatures that giggled and made noises sent her into a wild-eyed state of fear. It wasn't a full-blown panic attack, but it took all the efforts of Jareth, Lilac and Zinnia to keep her from descending into one. Once they talked her down from waving a fork at anything that moved, Jareth called in two of his best-behaved goblin maids. He gave them a stern warning to not make any sudden moves or frighten Sarah.

Sarah and the goblins studied each other for a few minutes, and then she began to relax. It wasn't the _goblins_ that bothered her, Jareth realized. It was not being able to see who was around her. He rescinded his order to keep out of sight, and Sarah got along well with the staff.

By far, the biggest vexation to Jareth was Sarah herself. She slept far too much in her first week at his Castle. He was constantly distracted and hovering over her. He was impatient for her to wake, and when she was awake, he wanted to know what had happened to her. Unfortunately, Lilac insisted that they not press her until she was ready. He understood the wisdom in that, but there was a burning need in him to repay the trolls with the same pain they had inflicted on his Heart.

The Labyrinth felt different, with Sarah in residence. His Heart was back. She might not be using her magic as the Heart of the Labyrinth, except by accident sometimes, but just the fact that she was here in the Labyrinth again made it easier for him to defend his kingdom. He marveled constantly at her sleeping form. He could still feel her heartbeat in his chest, and grew used to the feeling of two hearts within his ribs. Could she feel his heartbeat as well?

And yet not everything fell into place like it should have. There were setbacks, the worst of which being the nightmare she had four days after her arrival. As she began to recover her strength, she spent more time awake. Jareth was eager to show her the Castle and grounds, everything she would be queen over—_make her his—_but there were complications. For one thing, she could barely venture out of bed without falling over in exhaustion.

Lilac and Zinnia were invaluable in helping Sarah with those early days, when she had trouble bathing and dressing herself. Zinnia was a young elf, not yet two hundred years old, with skin a delicate shade of orange and bright yellow hair. She had a way of prattling on that helped to distract and cheer Sarah, though Jareth found her ceaseless chatter to be inane. Still, Sarah seemed to enjoy it, and all he had to do was raise one eyebrow, or clear his throat, and Zinnia was silenced. It was good to be the Goblin King.

They discovered that any glimpse of Jareth was enough to terrify Sarah. If she did not see his face within seconds, she went into a panic attack that could only be halted by putting her under a magical sleep or removing Jareth from the situation. Even allowing her to see his face was an imperfect solution, for she had to continuously watch him whenever they were together. The second she looked away, any hint of his presence made her stiffen.

It was not just his appearance, they found out the hard way. It was also his voice and touch that she could not tolerate. If she didn't know he was in the room, and he spoke from behind her, she shrieked and cowered from him. It was the same if he reached for her when she wasn't expecting it. His rage grew with each flinch and whimper, until it was a miracle the Labyrinth did not melt with his fury.

The trolls had really done a number on his Heart.

Viewing his face was sometimes not enough to bring her back from a panic. If he was too upset, or moved too fast, raised his voice, it shattered whatever calm his face had on her. Lilac had entirely too much self-preservation to suggest that he leave, especially when Sarah was in one of her attacks, but even he could see there were times when it was better for him to step back. He hated doing it, every time. He kept his face impassive until he was out of sight, and then he stormed off. He took his wrath out on some hapless trolls or ogres lost in the Labyrinth, and returned when he could control his temper again. By that point, Sarah was usually recovered as well. So long as he was careful, he could enter her presence again.

What he _really_ needed after those sessions was to pull Sarah into his arms and guard her against all comers, but that was out of the question. Her body had been healed of the troll-inflicted wounds, but she still shied away from unnecessary touch. The only thing that kept him from going berserk with a jealous rage was that she did not allow _anyone_ to touch her, not just him. He needed to have patience with her, but it was so _hard_ when everything inside him cried out that she was _his_.

He came back from one of his sessions with the trolls to find that Sarah was not fully recovered. He paused outside the door to his room when he heard sobbing inside. His chest lurched, and it took everything in him not to wrench open the door and charge in. His Heart needed him, but when he had done so before, he only succeeded in sending her into a worse attack.

Shaking with helplessness—a very unfamiliar feeling for one of the most powerful figures in the Underground—he leaned on the door with his eyes closed. He needed more than to comfort his Heart. He needed her to _want_ him, and she didn't. The trolls might have been done torturing her, but every day it was like his skin was being flayed off. He was about to leave to burn some more trolls, when he heard her voice.

"I don't mean to," she wept.

"There, there, child," Lilac soothed. "It will be alright."

"It's not alright," Sarah cried. "It's not fair! I don't _want_ to be afraid of him. But when he turns around, I don't know who he is! It's awful, and I hate it. I don't know why everyone is being so nice to me, I haven't done anything to deserve it, and it's worse when it's _him_, because I can't even look at him half the time…"

Waves of hot and cold swamped his body. A chill swept over him when he heard that exclamation that had so frustrated and amused him during her first visit, followed by heat when he realized her sense of injustice was for him this time around. And it continued as she spoke, heartache that she knew what she was doing to him, but unable to control it. Disbelief that she didn't realize what she was to him, why he would move the stars to make her feel better. _She didn't know he loved her_. So far as he was concerned, when she won his Labyrinth and his heart, she had earned everything he was. He had _told_ her!

_Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave._

But those were the words he said last time, six years ago. Had he said anything since then? No, instead he told not to mistake him for a lover, and she said no chance of that. He felt like stale Bog water. He needed to show her that nothing had changed for him. She would always be his Heart, and it was time she knew it. He backed away from the door, leaving Lilac to settle Sarah. He was already plotting his course.


	11. Clothes

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who read/commented/followed/faved! You guys make my world go round! This is a slightly shorter chapter again. It was a fun one to write though. There's nothing like the Goblin King throwing a fit over the silliest of things. I hope you like it. If you do, be sure to let me know!**

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><p>Chapter 11: Clothes<p>

As Sarah spent more time awake, she needed more clothes to wear than just his shirt. He had burned the prison clothes with great glee, and had no idea what happened to the clothes she had been wearing when she was abducted. He ordered a complete wardrobe for her. It was the first of many gifts he intended to give her.

A couple days later, when the dresses arrived, he left her to Lilac and Zinnia so she could get dressed. He paced in his study, wondering which gown she would choose. He had tried to select a goodly number of styles and colors, though of course she was welcome to add to his choices. He thought he would like to see her in the crimson number, though maybe that was best saved for when she had better color in her cheeks. The gold might make her look washed out as well, though the sapphire one would probably enhance the darkness of her hair and eyes. Yes, he would like to see the sapphire one on her now, though he would probably enjoy whatever choice she made.

The connecting door to his study opened. He turned toward it and strode forward, but was stopped when Lilac slipped through and shut the door behind her. He stopped, narrowing his eyes. Something hot slid through his middle. What was the physician doing? She knew better than to prevent him from going to his Heart. There was nothing was wrong in the next room; he would have felt it through the second heartbeat in his chest.

"My lord," Lilac said in a low voice. "You need to talk with Sarah. And you need to control your temper." Without waiting for his reply, she stood aside to let him pass.

He seethed at her interference. She had no right to tell him how to treat his Heart. He trusted her when it comes to healing Sarah's body, but she went too far by telling him to control his temper. There was nothing Sarah could possibly do that would make him—

He froze as he entered his room. Zinnia was settling Sarah on the settee—and didn't that create ideas to see her on what was basically his bed these days—and she was wearing the drabbest, ugliest mourning dress in existence.

"Leave us," he snapped to Zinnia.

Sarah stiffened and turned to face him. Zinnia quickly joined her aunt in the next room. Awkward silence fell, as Jareth struggled not to tear the dress off of her and put her in something _pretty_. Such an extreme reaction would only reduce her to panic. _Damn_ Lilac for being right about his temper, and damn her again for allowing Sarah into that awful dress.

"Thank you for the dress, Jareth," Sarah murmured shyly, smoothing the front of it without looking away from him.

"Why are you wearing that?" he demanded sharply, causing her to flinch. He had included the mourning dress only because he had a vague idea that every woman should have one in her wardrobe, not because he thought Sarah would actually choose to wear it. What was she mourning? Her stay here? Her life Aboveground? Did she feel he was keeping her in a coffin, and so she might as well be dead already?

Her brow furrowed in worry. "I… liked this one," she said in a tiny voice.

"Choose another. I don't want you to wear that one."

Her face fell. "A-another?" she stammered.

"Yes!" he hissed, his fists clenched. "What is wrong with them? Why would you choose _this_ one?" He raked the dress scornfully with his eyes. After all he did for her, she chose to make a statement of _mourning_ her presence here!

Sarah pressed back against the settee, her eyes wide. Her breathing was fast and shallow. He knew he was pressing his luck by allowing his ire to show. He closed his eyes, praying for control.

"Jareth?" Sarah asked with that sharp note of panic that meant she didn't recognize him. He looked at her. That had never happened while he was facing her before. She sighed in relief.

"I-I'm sorry you don't like the dress," she said. "I thought it was alright. It was in the closet."

"Change into another," he said slowly, trying to keep his voice even so he wouldn't frighten her.

Her face fell. "Must I?" she pleaded.

"What is wrong with the others?" he asked again, barely hold back a growl.

"Nothing is wrong with them! They are just so… lavish. They couldn't possibly be for me."

Lavish? Yes, they were nicer than anything he had seen her wear before, but they were nowhere near as _magnanimous_ as some of the dresses he had seen Fae women wear to court. Then again, his Sarah was not Fae, but mortal. The Fae had a keen eye for beauty, which was how he had chosen the dresses, but perhaps Sarah preferred something different.

"What would you choose to wear?" he asked, struggling to understand her.

Her face lit up. "Really? I could choose my own clothes?"

He was blighted by her simple pleasure. Why didn't he listen to Lilac and speak with Sarah before jumping to conclusions?

"The dresses in the wardrobe _are_ yours, Sarah," he said. "There is nothing which is too lavish for you. However, you are welcome to add to it, and order clothes that you would be comfortable in. What would you like?" He moved forward slowly, testing her response. She no longer shied from him, so he settled at the other end of the settee. He felt a low pulse of hunger in his stomach. They were both on his bed now, and she was looking pleased for the first time that he could remember. He suppressed it for now. Eventually he _would_ pleasure her, even if he could not fully consummate their relationship, but she needed to be stronger first. Small steps at a time.

She looked doubtful at the mention of the other dresses, but she said, "I'd like… something more simple, if it possible. Maybe like what Lilac and Zinnia wear?"

He had to stop his lip from curling into a sneer. She wanted servant's clothes? Did she feel like a slave here? He fought to suspend his judgement and listen to her. Maybe her tastes ran to the simple, but his queen would _not_ dress like a servant. He realized she was watching him expectantly.

"Of course," he murmured, though he privately vowed he _would_ eventually see her in the gowns already crafted.

"And could I have some pants as well?" She blushed, utterly unaware of her charm. "The ones in the drawers don't fit me."

Wait, what? She had tried to wear his clothes? There were not many gestures that were more possessive to a Fae than the wearing of each other's clothes. She had been wearing his shirt to sleep in, which had satisfied his very primal need to claim her. While she wore his shirt, everyone knew who she belonged to, who protected her. He was continuing to claim her by providing her wardrobe. Now his mind was swamped with the image of her pulling his pants up her bare legs…

He suppressed a groan and eyed her innocent expression. No, she had no idea what she did to him. If he was not sure it would terrify her, nothing could have prevented him from removing her ugly dress and showering her with ardor as he wrapped silks around her skin… His pulse was pounding, and he needed to think of something else, quickly.

She wanted pants? Unbidden, his eyes fell to her skirts, and he wondered what her legs looked like under the material. Pants would expose the shape of her legs without revealing her skin. It would be an exquisite torment to look, and not touch her soft form. He _wanted_ her with a depth of feeling he had never experience before. The culmination of all his other pursuits could not measure up to just a couple minutes spent in her presence.

"Jareth?" Sarah asked worriedly.

Not because she did not recognize him, but because he was completely distracted by the thoughts she put in his head. Goodness, he was practically _leering_ at her. He rearranged his expression into a more appropriate smile.

"If the pants are not proper, I can just make do with the skirts, I don't want to cause any trouble…"

"It's no trouble, Sarah," he said, and brushed his gloved fingers across the back of her hand. Perhaps there would be a little touching between them… or not, as her heartbeat sped in fear. She withdrew her hand, and it was all he could do to not pull her into his lap where she belonged. "I will talk to the seamstress about some pants." Though it remained to be seen if she would wear them in front of anyone other than him.

"Thank you, Jareth," she said with genuine pleasure, and despite her reaction just a moment ago when he touched her, she leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. The hunger roared up inside him. He wanted to sink his hands into her hair, to turn her face toward him and claim her lips as _his_. He would slink an arm around her waist and pull her hard against him, trapping her until she gave in to him…

What stopped him was the quick catch of her breath, the sudden beat of her heart in alarm. Her eyes were wide with fright as she pulled back from him. She saw his eyes, and smiled tremulously as she recognized him again. He frowned. This was something that needed to be dealt with, that he couldn't even kiss his Heart without causing her a spurt of panic.

Sarah looked rather disappointed as well, holding her hands tensely in her lap. She didn't like being touched, but he wished he could give her some sort of comfort. He was about to say to blazes with all of it, and take her hands in his, when there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," he called imperiously. Two goblins came in, carrying a platter of cold cuts for lunch. He gestured for them to place it on the low table, not caring how his notes might be scattered.

"Are you hungry, Sarah?" he asked, once the goblins had left and they were alone again.

She nodded. "I have recovered much of my appetite since being here," she said. "Might I make you a sandwich?" She reached for the bread and meat.

He stopped her with a touch on her wrist. She froze, her lips tightening but not quite frowning. Dammit, she was going to have to get used to him touching her! He refused to let the trolls take his Heart from him. She would get over this, just as she would eventually get over everything else. He just needed more patience.

"Allow me," he said smoothly. Food was another of those Fae courting customs. For him to prepare and serve food to her was a statement of claiming. For her to do the same to him was a proposition. He wanted to be able take her up on that offer when she served him. He stacked meat thickly on the fresh bread, arranging a large pile of garden fruits on the plate as well before handing it to her.

"Jareth, that's too much," she protested as she took the plate.

In his opinion, she didn't eat enough. "Try for me, precious," he said blithely, slapping together another sandwich for himself with far less care.

She sighed, but smiled timidly as they began to eat. She probably didn't notice how he waited until she took the first bite before he ate, nor how he watched her with lazy satisfaction. All was right in his world again; he was the provider, the protector. He was the Trial to defend his Heart. He hadn't known how much he was missing when she had been absent these last six years. He was invincible so long as his Heart was safe.

They spoke of inconsequential things as they ate. The antics of the goblins, Zinnia's never-ending flow of gossip, the doings of other Labyrinth peoples. At one point she paused and looked rather sad. He was certain she was about to ask about her friends, but instead she shook her head slightly and spoke of something else. Very well, he thought, she was not yet ready for additional visitors. He would not speak of them before she did.

She began to wane shortly after lunch. She sank deeper into the cushions, her eyes becoming weary. How fast she still tired! Still, this interlude had been one of the more pleasant he'd spent with her, though he was still filled with a hunger that food couldn't touch.

"Look at me," he said, as he always did when he was about to move.

She tensed, but with the warning was able to keep him in sight as he rose and backed to the study door. He opened it to reveal Lilac and Zinnia, trapped within the room for the last hour. They could have come out ages ago, but he had been enjoying his time alone with Sarah. He was not above a little petty revenge.

"I believe my lady wearies, and would like to rest now," he told the elves, then flourished a bow to leave.


	12. Balcony

Chapter 12: Balcony

He was prevented from sharing dinner with her in the same way by a magical fire caused by one of his dragon toddlers. It required his personal attention to keep it from spreading, and three water-brigades of goblins to finally put out. He then had to supervise the partial rebuilding of the minotaur village, and visit the dragonling's rather embarrassed family. His usual threat of bogging was useless against dragons—the _last_ thing the Labyrinth needed was to combine dragon fire with the highly combustible Bog gasses—but he grounded the youngster in question, and left behind a crystal that shone with glittery light.

The magpie-like dragonling was fascinated by his new toy, and Jareth fancied the dragon mother was relieved it would be a month before her child was flying into mischief again. It was quite late by the time he returned to the Castle. Sarah had long ago retired to bed. Normally he would have changed his clothes with magic, but he was singed and smelled strongly of smoke. He took a bath in the chamber attached to his room, both haunted and allured by Sarah's presence so close.

Once he was out and dressed, he stole into his room. He was tempted by the figure sleeping on the bed. He stood over her for a moment, counting her breaths as something inside of him unfurled. The entire time he fought the fire, he thought of _her_, thought that the Labyrinth was the world he would present to her, and he wanted to preserve every part of it for her. When he punished the dragonling but gave it the crystal to distract it, he thought it was something _she_ would have done. The Heart of the Labyrinth was the gift-giver, the boon-granter, the softness to his harsh strength. She belonged here, with him. He couldn't wait for the moment when he could show her everything he was.

He retreated to the settee and threw himself down on it carelessly. His legs hung over the sides of the too-short piece of furniture, but he didn't care. There was no question of him sleeping elsewhere. He had the hope that this self-imposed exile would not last forever. Technically, the queen had a full suite of chambers right next to his. They had not been used in over a thousand years, since his uncle's Heart had passed away, but between his magic and hordes of goblins, they could be made ready within a day.

Sarah was entitled to use those chambers, as she was his queen in all but name. He had every intention of correcting that as soon as she could stand for the ceremony. However, after so long without a consort, and then the six years they had already lost, Jareth _needed_ to hold her close. Having her in his bed answered that urge within him, even if he was not in the bed with her. For that matter, if he was that desperate for a bed, he could always sleep in the queen's chambers himself. But again, he had no intention of being further from her than was necessary. If it were not truly pathetic, he might have slept on the floor next to the bed… He fell asleep, and dreamed of chasing his Heart through the Labyrinth gardens.

A slight noise woke him the next morning. Sarah was stirring. Since she did not realize he was staying in the same room as her, he roused himself to full wakefulness. Every morning he was catching up with the business of his kingdom as she woke, as if he had just been waiting for her. Today, he remembered his dreams and smiled.

He transported himself to the gardens and picked a sprig of daphne odora. He liked the look of the dark green, pointed leaves lined with yellow, and the small cluster of purple-pink flowers in the center. He thought the meaning, "Desire to please," was appropriate to his relationship with Sarah as well. He placed the sprig on the pillow next to Sarah as she was still waking, and was in place on the settee before she opened her eyes.

He watched her discover the flowers without saying anything. A smile brightened her face, and she reached out to bring them to her nose. A surge of pride went through him. He did that. _He_ made her smile. Now if only she would smile at him.

"Good morning, precious," he said.

She gasped, gave him a fearful look, but smiled when she recognized him. It was a small smile, not as open as when she saw the flowers. It annoyed him that she was still hesitant around him. _Patience_, he reminded himself. Perhaps tomorrow he would pick an ox eye and wear it in his lapel. They maintained eye contact until Zinnia knocked on the door, and Jareth excused himself so Sarah could dress.

She chose the mourning dress again, which did not please him. He told himself that she didn't mean anything by it… but he made a note to threaten to bog the seamstresses if they didn't finish her new clothes soon. After breakfast, Sarah was feeling well enough for a short walk. He tried to escort her, but found it impossible due to her fear. Unless he walked backwards in front of her, or they walked half-sideways so that she could always see his face, she didn't recognize him. Her panic threatened, until he was forced to back off and let Zinnia take her.

He had planned to take her to a balcony overlooking the gardens, but he was forced to wait in another room as Zinnia settled Sarah in place. He paced the room, slapping his riding crop against his boots and kicking any goblins that ventured too close to him. He was seething with anger. How long would it be until Sarah stopped flinching at every glimpse of him? Hadn't he done enough already?

He was so careful to face her, to warn her when he was moving. He didn't enter her mind even though she was practically begging him to whenever she stared at him. He never hurt her like her captor had. So at what point would she learn to separate the two of them and trust him? His anger was only partly directed at Sarah. He was also angry at himself for not being more patient, for being angry at her. But most of his rage was aimed at the trolls for hurting Sarah in the first place. What he wouldn't give to have his hands around a troll's neck right now, squeezing while the helpless thing begged and struggle… He would give it as much mercy as it had given Sarah.

"My lord?" Zinnia interrupted his thoughts in a tiny voice.

He whirled toward her. He must have been looking particularly murderous, for she blanched and dropped into a curtsy.

"Lady Sarah is ready to see you, my lord," she squeaked out, far more easily intimidated than her aunt.

He ground his teeth together. He was not in the mood to visit Sarah now. He had worked himself to a violent fury, and he needed to vent it before exposing his Heart to it. "I do not think I will be going," he growled, adding yet another black mark to the trolls' tally. Now he could not see his consort because he was too upset from what they'd done to her. He turned to stride out of the room. There had to be trolls somewhere in the Labyrinth. He would find them and run them ragged.

"My lord…" Zinnia very nearly whimpered, "She was asking for you."

He stopped, closed his eyes and struggled to reign in his temper. She wanted him. Sarah was asking for him. That was more important than any revenge to be had. He took several deep breaths, letting his desire for his Heart banish the uglier emotions.

"Take me to her," he commanded.

Sarah was sitting on a balcony chair, a blanket draped demurely over her lap. She looked pale in the fresh air, and he realized how very fragile she still was. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. She looked at him, and he saw at once that her eyes were red from crying. The last traces of his anger turned inward. She was _trying_. It wasn't her fault. If what she felt for him was anything like what he felt for her, this was just as hard on her.

"My precious Sarah," he murmured, "What must I do to banish those tears?"

Her face crumbled. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "I don't want—"

"No, don't be sorry," he said, striding forward to capture her face between his gloved hands. He moved too fast for her. She pressed back, her eyes wide. "Look at me," he warned. She shuddered. It was several minutes before she was able to conquer her fear, and even then she wasn't easy.

"Don't be sorry," he said. "Be happy, be angry, be whatever you want, but not sad, or sorry."

"But—"

"Do not talk of such things, I forbid it," he said imperiously. The old Sarah would have hated him saying that, and he was relieved to see a tiny spark in her eyes. Yes, she _could_ recover from this.

"What shall we talk about then?" she asked as he released her.

"Anything you like," he said, talking a seat on the balcony railing. "How do you like the view?"

"It was very nice," she said, and he cursed himself, for of course she could not look at anything else while he was here. He slouched against the railing disconsolately. He was not _used_ to not being able to fix everything. He was the Goblin King, dammit, why couldn't he wave his hand and make everything go away?

Sarah gasped. Her hand was on her throat, and she'd risen half out of her chair.

"What?" he asked. He hadn't looked away. There was no reason for her fear now.

"Jareth," she choked out, "Please, come away from there."

He stared at her for another minute before realizing what she meant. A slow grin lit his face. "What, away from here?" he deliberately leaned further over the railing.

"Jareth!" she yelped.

He chuckled. It had been a long time since he'd managed to tease anyone. What was a Goblin King that didn't play tricks on people? And Sarah's wide-eyed concern was for _him_, because she didn't want _him_ to fall over the edge. There was no danger to him here. Surely she was aware of that? Her worry tickled the mischief in his soul. He debated pretending to fall, and changing into an owl to fly back to her. Would she laugh when he reappeared? Or would she be furious with him for scaring her? Part of him wanted to do it, if only because she didn't want him to. Except… he was tired of hearing fear in her voice, and even if this time it was motivated out of concern for him, he still didn't want to hear her terrified screams.

He pushed himself away from the edge, to her sigh of relief. His tips twisted ironically. He must be growing soft in his age; he would have never hesitated a century ago. Or maybe it was the love of a woman that was changing him. He already knew there were few things he wouldn't do to see to her protection and happiness.

The Labyrinth pressed a warning to his mind; a party of ogres had entered its passages. Such was the nature of the Labyrinth, that he could neither seal off all entrances, nor fully trap any creatures within it. He could trick, mislead, and place obstacles in their path, but there must always be a way to _move_ within the Labyrinth. Thankfully both ogres and trolls were incredibly stupid, and never looked past the obvious difficulty in front of them. Not at all like the way his clever Heart had passed his Labyrinth.

He'd already opened a direct route for the ogres into the Sirens' den—let the land-loving ogres drown for their crimes—when Spyglass jumped up besides Sarah's chair.

"My lord! There are—" The little goblin got no further.

Sarah made an undignified squeak, jumping in her chair. Her hands jerked instinctively, and Spyglass flew across the balcony, into the room beyond the doors, and landed with a thud against the wall. There was utter silence for about six heartbeats, and then Jareth roared with laughter. His Heart was using magic, whether she knew it or not, and to punt a goblin across the room was such a very _Goblin King_ thing to do!

Sarah gave him a withering look, which was another glimpse of her old spirit. She rose from her chair and went to kneel by Spyglass—_her back to Jareth_. The laughter caught in his throat. She'd turned from him, and yet she was not panicking. How long had she been able to do this? This morning he hadn't been able to walk her to this balcony. How far could he push her new tolerance?

He rose and stalked toward her, feeling very much like a hunter. Sarah was his prey, and he was not above pouncing on her. If she did not panic, he would show her just what else he could do to her… But she stiffened the moment he began to move. He stood at the threshold of the room, pausing to take in her reaction. Her shoulders were hunched, her head ducked, even as she fussed over Spyglass. The goblin was dazed, but clearly not hurt.

"Sarah," he said, and his voice came out in a rumble.

She flinched as if he'd struck her. "Please, Jareth, please don't speak, don't move." She was careful not to look at him either. He understood, then. She was avoiding the panic by pretending he wasn't there. He admired her cleverness for about two seconds, and then he realized how much he disliked being ignored by his Heart.

Spyglass saw his face, and decided to make a hasty exit. "I'm alright, Lady Sarah," the goblin coughed, "Really, I've been kicked much harder by his majesty, this didn't hurt at all. Uh, ogres in the Labyrinth, sire! Okay, bye!" Spyglass scurried out of the room, probably expecting another kick any instant now.

Sarah turned toward Jareth with a sigh, sitting on her heels. "You're still kicking goblins?" she asked incredulously.

He shrugged, studying her closely. "If they're foolish enough to venture close. I don't like being ignored."

She tilted her head as if he were a puzzle to be viewed at a different angle. "Why are there ogres in the Labyrinth?"

Ignoring him again. His temper flashed, but he tamped it down. She would learn the proper conduct as his consort soon enough. "There _were_ ogres in the Labyrinth," he said. All but one of them had already drowned, and the Sirens were dragging the last one under as they spoke. "There aren't any more. I took care of them. Your magic is getting stronger. You'll need to start taking lessons to control it." He would be all too happy to be her teacher. Since her magic was the compliment of his, he was the only one that really could show her how to use it.

She blanched suddenly, her face going white with terror. He bristled, the Labyrinth rumbling against his mind. Was the thought of magic so abhorrent to her?

"Are the ogres after me?" she asked in a quavering voice.

He blinked, took a deep breath, and realized her reaction was not because of the magic. He worked to settle both himself and the Labyrinth. And though the trolls and ogres very likely _did_ want to capture Sarah again, he would not frighten her with the truth. Besides, they were after more than just her.

"They are after the Instance," he explained.

She gave him a blank look. "What's the Instance?"

His eyebrows rose. He forgot how very mortal she was, how little she knew of her new world. "I see you will need history lessons as well as magic lessons. I shall provide the second, and find books for the first."

She flushed with a hint of anger. "I'm not a child."

He paused, and let his ever-present hunger show in his eyes as he gazed at her form. "No, I never thought that."

She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. It was hard to tell if she was more embarrassed or pleased by his attention. He gave a low laugh. How delightful it was to have a blushing bride! And she was all _his_, never touched before him, and never belonging to anyone else after.

"I don't like to see you on the floor," he drawled. "Stand up."

She drew in a sharp breath as if to retort, then let it out with a shrug. "Help me?" she asked.

"What?" he stared at her.

Her lips twisted with defeat. "I don't think I can stand on my own. That's why I haven't gotten up before now."

He cursed, striding toward her. "And what would you have done if I wasn't here?"

She was unconcerned. "Waited for the goblins to find me, and ask them to fetch you."

He leaned down, grasped her elbows, and effortlessly pulled her to her feet. She gasped at his touch, her heartbeat betraying a hint of fear as she leaned on him. He started to let her go, but she grabbed his arms.

"No, don't let go, I don't think I can stand yet," she said.

"Look at me," he warned, and then picked her up in his arms. She yelped, struggling against him.

"Sarah," he growled. "It's me, just me, look at me."

She searched his face for a long moment, panting wildly. Her panic retreated slowly, and was replaced by tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered miserably.

"Don't be," he said gruffly, hating to see her pain. He began to carry her back to her room. "Why me?"

"I think you know why," she said, shuddering. "The—the other one looked like—like…" She was unable to articulate her answer, her heartbeat escalating again. He jostled her with rough gentleness.

"Not that," he told her, jarring her from memories neither of them wanted to go over. "Why would you have the goblins fetch me, instead of Zinnia or Lilac?"

She blinked in surprise. "Oh, that," she shrugged. "Well, for one thing, they're both shorter and lighter than I am. I'm always afraid I'm going to crush them if I fall on one."

He gave a startled laugh. Trust his Heart to always be thinking of others, even when she was the one who needed help. "They're Undergrounders," he said. "We're stronger than we look."

"Yes," she murmured, and her hand, still on his biceps, squeezed slightly. Didn't _that_ just make him preen a little! He was damned proud to be the one carrying her at that moment.

"And the other reason is that you don't… hover over me like they do," Sarah finished.

Something in her tone bothered him. "Sarah," he said sternly, "You know it is not a lack of care that prevents me from hovering over you?"

She gave him a blank look. "What?"

He growled. "I care more for you than those two ever could. You are _mine_, Sarah." He could see from the slightly dazed look in her eyes that he had pushed too far. He sighed impatiently and reigned in his need for her. "I don't hover because I know you're strong. You can handle this. And I will _always_ be there when you need me." And because he did his hovering when she was already asleep, and didn't see him looming over her.

They reached the room, and he placed her on the bed. "Rest well, my Heart," he murmured. It was the first time he called her by her title. Impulsively he leaned down and kissed her forehead. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pushing him away even as she clung to him. Her fear warred with the tenderness he would bestow upon her, and for now the fear won. He pulled back, his chest aching for her. He excused himself from the room, but didn't go far. As soon as the sound of her breathing told him she was asleep, he crept back in.

He was honored she would rather call him than her other keepers. As his Heart, his first loyalty was always to her. Part of her recognized that, though he was beginning to think she really did _not_ know how much he felt for her. _Precious little mortal,_ he thought, his gloved hand hovering over her close enough to feel her warmth, but still not touching. _You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into._


	13. Magic

**A/N: Many thanks for your reviews, follows and faves! It really is deeply appreciated. This is somewhat of a sweeter chapter, but it's also the calm before the storm. I have a couple questions at the bottom of the page for you guys, as always, let me know what you think!**

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><p>Chapter 13: Magic<p>

The next morning, instead of flowers, he placed a crystal on her pillow. He was amused to see that she was almost frightened of it.

"Is it magic?" she asked warily, not touching the crystal.

"Of course," he said. He was in his usual place on the settee, absently reading through reports.

"Is it going to take me away?"

He paused, frowning at her. "Why would it take you away? You belong here." In his room. In his bed, even if he was not in it with her…

"It's an empty crystal," he said to distract himself from his thoughts. "For now, you can use it to channel and focus your magic. Eventually you'll learn how to put spells into them, as I do. As of the moment, you won't be able to do much more than make it glow." And because he had created the crystal, he would be able to feel the power she put into it. It would help him gauge her strength, and how soon she would need to start magic lessons.

"Will I be able to do that twirling thing you do with your crystals?"

"Like this?" He set down the reports, conjured three crystals, and rolled them up and down his arms in a hypnotic fashion.

"Yes," she said, watching him with rapt attention.

"No," he said succinctly, letting the crystals fall abruptly.

Sarah lurched forward as if to catch them, though she didn't leave the bed. She laughed when they dissolved into air instead of shattering.

"You did that on purpose!" she accused.

"Of course," he said. It was worth it to hear her laugh. "It took me many years to learn how to do that. But I will teach you, if you want." He would have to be close to her to show her how. He'd probably need to stand behind her, her back nestled to his chest, his hands reaching around to guide hers and—

_Holy Mother of Bog!_

He looked back at his reports to hide his reaction as Sarah picked up the crystal sphere at last. It filled with a warm glow at once, her magic swirling into it with far more ease than he'd expected. She was so entranced by it, she was able to look away from him for several seconds without triggering a panic. Jareth needed that time to calm the beating of his own heart. She was a lot stronger than he'd guessed. He knew, intellectually, that her magic as the Heart of the Labyrinth was as great as his as the Trial of the Labyrinth, but in practice he had never met anyone who came close his level of power.

Was this what it was like for other people to meet him, to feel an overwhelming force that could so easily crush them? He began to see why the Goblin King was not beholden to the rest of the Court, and why all potential heirs must pass through the Labyrinth in order to be chosen. The Labyrinth would judge the worthiness of the new king before he took the throne, and would ensure he wouldn't be the sort to abuse his power. The Labyrinth rumbled in approval against his mind.

Jareth's lips quirked upward. The power he felt through his crystal _was_ great, but it was not the sort to crush others. Rather there was an almost maternal air to it, a feeling of fierceness if necessary, but also a sense of nurturing and support. Just as his own magic, he realized, was not set out to make his enemies bow at his feet, but to test them to be greater than they were. The unworthy chaff were swept aside by the Labyrinth's maze, while the chosen few were made stronger.

He felt more than ever how Sarah complimented him in every way. In the next moment, he was frowning as his eyes finally took in the words he had been reading for the last several minutes.

"Is something wrong?" Sarah asked, cradling the crystal to her chest as if it were a furry pet.

"Not wrong," he said, on the verge of grumbling, "But something which I must attend to in person, preventing me from sharing your company." It was a petition from the Mover's Union to have their burrows moved to a different part of the Labyrinth. The Movers—the little creatures who had delighted in changing Sarah's arrows about on her trip through his Labyrinth—were some of his most useful spies. They were practically undetectable, darting through cracks in the ground that were too small for rats. Moving them would mean he would lose a lot of the intelligence he'd been receiving on the trolls and ogres.

But it was close to their birthing season, and they deserved to have their whelps in peace. Nor could he leave the moving of their burrows up to the Labyrinth. The Labyrinth was excellent at redirecting its own paths to make a section that had been two feet away suddenly miles further, but it was rubbish at moving entire homes and villages. It had once accidentally sent a whole dryad forest into the Under-Labyrinth for two weeks, until Jareth managed to find the proper connections and return the forest to the surface. The dryads had been so traumatized, he'd had to ban the fierys from that forest for a year. So yes, he had to see to the moving of the Mover's Union burrows himself.

He rose, and wasn't sure if the look in Sarah's eyes was disappointment or fear. He hoped for the one, and dreaded the other. "Practice making your crystal glow," he said. "You should be able to dim and brighten it on command. When I return, I will show you more simple uses for it." He gave her an ironic bow, and left.

Unfortunately, relocating the Mover's Union burrows was a much harder task than he'd anticipated. He hadn't had to move a complete village since Sarah won his Labyrinth six years ago. This sort of work was really Heart magic, power that he no longer had access to. Having Sarah within the Labyrinth again filled that empty place in his chest, helped him feel not as hollow, but he still couldn't use her magic. The Labyrinth helped as much as possible, but really it was much better at losing things than putting them where they belonged.

It was the wee hours of the morning when he finally returned to the Castle. He was exhausted from the grueling work. If only he had asked Sarah to help him! Even though she had no training whatsoever, her instinctive grasp of Heart magic would have made the entire business much easier. Still, no matter how difficult it had been, it was worth it to see the gratitude on the Mover's little faces. They assured him once their young were no longer vulnerable, they would be perfectly happy resuming spy-work again.

He took a couple minutes in his bedroom to observe Sarah's sleeping form and take in her scent. Assured that all was well with his Heart, he stumbled to the settee and collapsed on top of it. He could not remember ever being so worn in his life. His last hazy thought was that he needed Sarah far more than he'd ever realized.

Unsurprisingly, he slept late the next morning. It was late enough that he wasn't the first one awake. He slowly became aware that he was being watched. He was used to the ubiquitous presence of the goblins, but this was different. For one the goblins knew better than to disturb him when he was sleeping. He had bogged enough of them that they gave him a wide berth when they knew he was resting. When Sarah first came to his Castle, he had told them bogging was the _least_ of what would happen if they woke her. So far none of them had dared try him.

Another thing different was the amount of light in the room. With his eyes still closed, he could tell the room was brighter than normal when he woke; it was later in the day. The most important thing that caught his attention was the sound of Sarah's breathing. She was still in the room with him, but she was not sleeping. Her breath trembled in and out in the too deep and slow fashion of those struggling to control themselves.

_Oh damn,_ he thought. He'd overslept, and Sarah caught him sleeping. It didn't bother him that she saw him vulnerable. However he was _not_ looking forward to explaining his presence on the settee. So far she had not questioned the location or furnishings of his room, but he instinctively knew she'd hate sleeping in his bed. It was as if he was propositioning her, night after night. Well, he was, but it was only himself that was tormented by it. Everyone in the Labyrinth knew Sarah was his Heart, that she was their queen.

He stirred slowly, turning his head and looking at Sarah. Her heartbeat, though faster than normal, didn't give him any clue as to her reaction at finding him asleep. He worried about finding her in a state of panic, but she appeared to be taking the discovery rather well. That was to say, she was sitting against the headboard, her knees drawn up to her chest, rolling her crystal back and forth between her hands. She was tense and anxious, but not in a full-blown panic attack.

When she met his eyes, she gave a sigh of relief and made a cautious smile. "I was hoping it was you," she said.

His eyebrows rose as he sat up. "How is that, my pet?" he asked, yawning. He hadn't gotten enough sleep, but his Heart was more important than that. She had never yet shown recognition of him when he was not fully aware and facing her.

She shrugged, gripping her crystal and deliberately making it fade and glow in time to her meditative breathing. "The… other one, I never saw him sleep," she explained slowly. "And I never saw him look so… peaceful."

He resisted the urge to scowl. The Goblin King was _not_ a peaceful person. Except, possibly, with his Heart. There was something important about her actions, he thought. A week ago, she would have hidden in the far corner if she saw him without seeing his face. Two weeks ago she would have been in a full panic attack. Her tolerance of him _was_ slowly improving. She still didn't recognize him while he was sleeping—otherwise she wouldn't have needed to hope it was him—but she was able to think past her fear to reason that it was far more likely to be Jareth sleeping on the settee than the one that had tortured her.

"Happy to oblige," he murmured, stretching his spine luxuriously.

"How did your business go yesterday?" she asked.

He stopped slouching. Was she taking interest in the matters of his kingdom, or in himself? Either way it, he took it as a positive sign. He allowed his haughty veneer to fall away as he remembered the gratitude of the Movers. "It went well," he said, "but it would have been easier if you were there." How would she react to the hint of her place by his side?

Her eyes clouded, her hands clenching the sphere hard. It glowed brighter in response to her anxiety. It might as well have been an Aboveground mood ring. "It would have?" she asked doubtfully. "I know so little, I think I might have only gotten in the way." She sounded genuinely unhappy.

Now Jareth had yet another reason to begin her magic lessons. Not only did he need her help, not only did she need to learn control, but she also needed to know that she belonged here. Of course, that last reason did not solely involve magic.

"You would have been far more helpful than my doing it on my own. I see you have been doing well with your crystal. Why don't you try sending it to me?" No time like the present to begin.

She gave him an uncertain look. "I can't throw very well, what if it breaks?"

He laughed. "Sarah, Sarah, it's magic. It will not break until it is commanded to."

She continued to hesitate, and he realized that her belief in its breakability might be enough to make it come true. She had become attached to the crystal, he thought. Because it was an outward sign of her magic, or because he made it for her? He would drive himself mad always asking such questions! So the real question was if she'd trust him with the crystal.

Taking a deep breath, she uncoiled her arm and lobbed it at him gently. Her aim and her strength were off; the crystal started to fall well short of the table in front of him. She made a noise of distress in her throat. He reached out an imperious hand, and the sphere zoomed into his palm. Sarah sat back and gave him a grateful smile.

_I will always catch you, Sarah,_ he thought. Warmth blazed up his arm, and he took a moment to study what she had made of his creation. Her magic recognized and welcomed him. She had put a concentrated amount of power into it, filling it with her anxieties, her fears, her hopes, her dreams. Looking into it was like looking into her innermost thoughts. As tempted as he was to know her every whim, she couldn't have known what she'd done when she placed her magic into the sphere and offered it to him.

He sent a tiny trickle of his own magic into the crystal, only enough to welcome her back and let her see his surface thoughts at the moment—that he was glad for her presence. He drew his arm back to toss the crystal back at her. She tensed, her eye on the sphere and her body ready to lunge after it. Before he could throw it, there was a knock on the door. Sarah looked to him expectantly, but he only raised his eyebrows at her.

"Enter?" she called timidly.

Zinnia and Lilac entered, followed by a dozen goblins carrying a variety of packages. "Your new wardrobe is here," Zinnia said, clapping her hands delightedly.

"And I thought I would take the opportunity to check on my patient," Lilac added. The physician was no longer a daily visitor of Sarah's, but still checked in regularly to keep up with her progress.

"Then I shall wait outside," Jareth stood. "Sarah—" he tossed the crystal back at her, deliberately aiming a couple inches short of her outstretched fingers. The crystal started to slip past her grip—only to change direction and land in her hand. He grinned as he left the room. That hadn't been his magic at work.

Once more ensconced in his study, he was reduced to pacing again. He had only a vague idea of what Sarah's new wardrobe entailed. Against his better judgement, he had allowed Zinnia to consult with the seamstress when it came to designing new clothes. The only instruction he had given was a gruff, "Remember, she is a _queen_, not a peasant."

It seemed to take a long time before the door opened, and Lilac slipped through. He looked at her, feeling a slow lick of anger in his belly. What words of warning would she see fit to impart this time? To his surprise, the elf only smiled mysteriously as she bowed and stepped aside for him to pass.

He strode through the door to his room, bracing himself for anything… or so he thought. He was not prepared for the sight of Sarah twirling in the middle of the room, laughing as her new dress spun out around her. It was indeed simpler than what he'd seen Fae women wear, but there was no chance of mistaking her for a servant. The material was light-weight, a pale green with a faint pattern of leaves and vines etched into it. The high waist was gathered beneath her breasts, and the skirt fell down in straight, loose lines. It was clear the cut and style of the material were of excellent quality. Subtle touches of dark green and gold lace at her collar and hems reinforced the knowledge that this was not a plain dress for an ordinary woman.

The gown suited her. Witnessing her delight in such a simple thing made Jareth's heart lurch in his chest. For the first time since hearing her call, she was looking like her old self again, spirited and strong. In this moment, she was not the fragile, frightened thing he'd guarded since her return to the Underground.

Sarah caught sight of him on her revolutions and stopped, her hand on her throat. Her wide-eyed look of fear melted into one of gratitude as she recognized him. "Jareth, thank you," she said breathlessly.

He stepped forward, instinct taking over. "May I have this dance, my lady?" He offered his hand to her as if they were at a formal ball, and not his bedroom.

She hesitated, then placed her hand in his gloved one. "Thank you, my lord," she said quietly, the first time she called him that. The slight quiver of her hand, the softness of her voice warned him to be careful. She _looked_ better in clothes she was finally comfortable wearing, but she was still far from recovered.

So instead of sweeping her into an intimate waltz that was half-foreplay, he whisked her into a light-hearted two-step. She stumbled until she learned to accept his lead, and even then he had to shorten his stride to account for her weakened form. Already breathless from twirling, Sarah was soon gasping for air. He stopped reluctantly, eyeing her face. She was pink from exertion… or pleasure.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, holding to his arms. "I just feel a little… faint."

He supported her, regretting that he could not show her the extent of his devotion. Zinnia clapped for them, reminding him that they weren't alone. He directed his Heart to sit down to rest, and then started to dip into a bow in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat at the anticipation of losing sight of him. He changed his full bow into a half-bow over her hand, bringing it to his lips. He was thrilled by the intimacy of her bare hands, not covered by gloves as was Fae custom.

"I hope I shall have many more opportunities to dance with you, my Heart," he murmured against her skin, keeping his voice low and seductive. Zinnia sighed, clasping her hands in front of her. The young elf approved of the Goblin King romancing his mate, but there was only one person's approval he needed. It seemed he had tired out Sarah more than he'd realized, for she was giving him a dazed look, her eyes unfocused. He cursed himself for always pushing for more than she was ready for. It was in his nature to constantly try his surroundings, but for his Heart he wished he was gentler.

He kissed her hand and let it slip from his grasp. He left her in the care of the elves as he strode off to care for his kingdom.

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><p><strong>AN: That was happy, right? Unfortunately this story couldn't all be fluff, so there are some darker times ahead. Okay, my first question is should I change the genre of this story from drama to hurt/comfort? And the second question is about Sarah. What do you think of her personality? Is she too passive compared to the movie? Would what she's experienced in this story account for her altered attitude, or is she just completely OOC? Please tell me what you think! I want to know if I'm doing alright, or if I've gone completely stark bonkers with everything! **


	14. Advice

**A/N: Thanks for your reviews, follows and faves! I'm going to up the rating on this chapter and the next to M, for violence. Some of the things that happen in this chapter might be disturbing for some readers, and there might be some Jareth hating after this. If you want to rage about it, leave a review!**

Chapter 14: Advice

Sarah continued to improve bit by bit. She regained quite a bit of her confidence with her new clothes. He had even acquiesced to her request for pants, though he warned her of the attention she would likely garner by exposing her legs. She shrugged off the idea of men ogling her as if it was not possible, but Jareth knew better. He seethed inwardly, and knew he would do worse than bog any male he caught leering at his Heart. He would throw them over the walls to the mercy of the trolls and ogres

Perhaps taking mercy on his nerves—he was dangerously close to hovering when Sarah started venturing on short walks beyond his room—she continued to wear only dresses. Now that she was slowly exploring more of his Castle, he thought she was ready for visitors. He expected her to ask about her friends any day now. Her friends were certainly asking about _her_ every time they saw him, but no word of them came from her lips. He did not know what fueled her silence, but he decided to wait until she asked about her friends before making the reintroduction.

Their pattern became set over the next few days. In the mornings, they ate breakfast, spoke of trivial things, and practiced magic. His Heart was in awe of her budding powers, and though he had long taken his own abilities for granted, it was a pleasure to rediscover the joy of it with her. It was not long before she was able to float her crystal—wobbling—across the room to him. He praised her efforts. She blushed and shook her head as if not satisfied she'd done enough. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit when she did that.

He had courted women who turned compliments away from themselves, all the while searching for more. His Heart was not like that. It was as if she truly did not _believe_ what he said. The game of courting was a playful give and take, sometimes light, sometime cruel. With Sarah it was no longer a game, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that he did not know her standards.

His hunger demanded that he chase after her, make her acknowledge him as her conqueror and protector, but pride held him back. He did not always want to be the one chasing her. He wanted her to look on him with desire as well, and it irked him that she sometimes smiled, sometimes kissed his cheek in gratitude, but no more. He might as well have been her brother with how chastely she treated him, he thought in disgust.

It did not help that every time he tried to touch her, she was clearly bothered by it. He could feel her stiffness in the way she removed herself from his contact. She always did it with a sweetness he couldn't fault, but the more she withdrew, the more his instincts urged him to hunt.

Zinnia and Lilac were no help at all. Zinnia viewed his pursuit of Sarah as something from a romantic tale. She was more than willing to push Sarah at him, but was as puzzled as him by his Heart's reluctance. In any case, he was _not_ consulting a mere lady's maid about his relationship with his consort.

Lilac was even worse. She viewed his chase with a stern and somewhat disapproving eye, though she knew better than to comment until he finally swallowed his pride enough to ask her.

"What?" he demanded one day, after Sarah had lain down after a particularly exhausting magic lesson. He'd attempted to kiss her lips, only to have her screw up her face and turn her cheek to him instead. His pride stung bitterly, but his hands were still gentle when he tucked his Heart into bed.

Now he walked out with Lilac, and hadn't been able to take her critical looks any longer.

"You are never happy, my lord," she said. "You always want more."

His temper flared; he fought to hold it in. "Am I not the king? Is it not my prerogative to have what I want?"

Lilac stopped walking and gave him a hard look. He winced, feeling how deplorable that arrogance was, even for him. "That was unacceptable," he admitted.

"It was," she agreed primly.

His chin lifted slightly. They had been friends a long time, and both knew that was as far as he would allow her to chastise him. He sighed, making a conscious effort to relax his body. "She is my Heart," he said sadly. "I can feel her, inside." He pressed his hand to his chest, where he could feel Sarah's heart beating next to his. "Why doesn't she feel the same?"

"You don't give her time to feel anything," Lilac said, resuming her walk beside him. "You are always pushing for more from her. The more you push _at_ her, the more you push her _away_. Give her time to come to you."

It was hard advice to follow, but Lilac had not led him wrong before. For two days, he did everything in his power to back away. He would not leave her entirely: that was not in his nature. But he hid his hunger better. He did not reach for her hand, did not search her eyes for the same emotions he felt. He did not try to kiss her, and stilled the compliments that wanted to rise to his lips at her beauty.

It would have been easier to maintain his distance if Sarah did not act so _relieved_ that he was no longer chasing her. Perhaps she became a little easier in his presence, but it did not sooth the hunter in his soul that longed to claim her. Inwardly he seethed that he was suffering for her lack of concern, while she appeared unaffected. In his darkest moments he thought this was how they had always been, him chasing her, moving the stars for her, and her indifference to his efforts. Still Lilac cautioned him to give her more time, but his patience was wearing dangerously thin.

The day that Jareth broke started like any other. He was having breakfast with Sarah when the Labyrinth suddenly shrieked a warning in his mind. A party of at least thirty trolls had broken past the outer walls—and they carried with them one dying Labyrinth citizen.

"Excuse me—" he choked to Sarah, not waiting for Spyglass or another scout to find him. He dropped a crystal and instantly transported himself to their location. His rage erupted as he saw what they'd done. The eye-vines and other foliage of the outer walls burst out dozens of feelers to rip the trolls to pieces. Fairies dive-bombed their faces and bit viciously. An iron golem—brought from the gates of the Goblin City—finished off the rest. Then all that was left was to grieve.

Jareth stepped over bodies without care, heading to the single native of the group. He knelt by his subject, a young deer-kin—similar to a centaur, but with a deer body instead of a horse, and antlers. The Labyrinth knew every creature born within its walls, and pressed the name of the deer-kin to Jareth's mind. He didn't need it though. He recognized the young man as one of a group of six of his kind sent out to scout the edges of the troll army. Swift and naturally cautious, the deer-kin should have been able to avoid detection, or at least outrun and trolls that saw him. Unfortunately, while Jareth knew all that happened inside the Labyrinth, he was blind past its outer walls, which was why he needed creatures like the Mover's Union and the deer-kin to be his eyes and ears.

The attack of the Labyrinth had not touched John Fairfellow, but he was in bad shape. His antlers were broken, as were his legs. Multiple bruises and lacerations marred both human flesh and his tawny deer hide. Rope-burns and large patches of missing skin showed where he had been tied and dragged when he could no longer walk on broken limbs. His body blazed with troll poison. Fairfellow's breaths were labored and wet sounding. Nevertheless, he opened his eyes when he sensed the presence of his king.

"My lord," the youth rasped. "I'm sorry, we failed you. They knew we were there. We tried to run, but Birchbunch was captured, and when we went back for him, they got the rest of us too." He spoke in short spurts, pausing heavily every few words. Even that little seemed to exhaust him.

"You didn't fail me," Jareth soothed Fairfellow. "I'm sure you did everything you could to break free. Where are the others?"

Fairfellow rolled his eyes desperately, jerking from the pain of trying to focus. "Dead. They—they cut us, and, and burned us, made us watch, just to hear us scream." The boy, barely ninety years old, enough to be considered an adult but not yet experienced in the world, began to whimper. Jareth could feel his body shutting down. The injuries were almost certainly fatal on their own, but the addition of the troll poison guaranteed a painful, lingering death.

"Hush," Jareth whispered. He held up a hand, and a crystal sat in his palm. "Do you see this, Fairfellow? These are your dreams. Look into it, tell me what you see."

Fairfellow was helplessly drawn to the crystal. He could no longer speak, but the Goblin King saw the dreams regardless. He saw Fairfellow, healthy and strong, bounding with his herd. The deer-kin grew powerful with muscle, won the position of Lord of the Herd. He had a doe at his side, and a pair of white-spotted fawns. Jareth wove the dreams hypnotically, allowing Fairfellow to fall deeper and deeper into them.

When Fairfellow was insensible to the world, to any sort of pain, Jareth drew his knife and slit the deer-kin's throat. It was swift and painless, a far kinder death than the trolls had left him. He was so lost in his dreams, he never knew what happened. The body spasmed one last time and stilled. Jareth threw back his head and screamed his grief to the sky. All plant life within a dozen yards of him withered and died with the force of his pain. John Fairfellow, whose only crime was a desire to serve his king, was no more.

"Rest well," he whispered in a raw voice. He closed the boy's eyes and nestled the now-dead crystal of dreams against the cooling chest. Burning with the need to avenge his people, Jareth teleported to the top of the outer Labyrinth walls. His teeth bared in a feral snarl, he readied crystals in his hands to cast down on the guilty ones. The trolls raised a cacophony of noise when they saw him. A few arrows strayed in his direction, but none close enough to pose a danger. Pikes and other weapons were waved tauntingly. Jareth was not prepared for the gruesome new standards that were displayed before him.

He took a step back, and might have fallen off backwards save that the Labyrinth thickened its walls to provide him with a solid surface. The trolls had placed the heads and other body parts of the missing deer-kin on long poles, and set them into the ground like foul banners. He knew each of them: gentle Larklower, brave Heatherhearth, strong Birchbunch, swift Riverrun, and his close friend, wise old Glengrass. They had suffered agony before dying, their faces frozen in the moment. The trolls wanted him to know it, he realized, and they wanted him unthinking with fury, so that he might make a mistake and leave himself vulnerable.

They almost succeeded, but he knew Glengrass would have urged him to caution. He closed his eyes and offered up a prayer to the Instance for their souls. Then he threw his conjured crystals with precise aim. The trolls shouted in dismay as their trophies were incinerated by magic fire.

It was in this frame of mind that Jareth returned to his Castle. He was filled with grief and madness, frustration and pain. He needed his Heart. He needed her gentleness, her purity, to cleanse him from the darkness in his soul. He wanted to banish the ugly memories with the sweetness of her vanilla scent. He wanted to feel life, not death, in his arms.

He walked into his room, looking for his Heart, only to find her on her hands and knees with a bucket of water, scrubbing at the fire-stains on the floor like a common housemaid.

"_What_ are you doing?" he demanded, striding toward her.

She flinched, turning on her knees to look at him. She faltered at his ruthless expression. "Jareth, I'm sorry, I just thought I could be useful, cleaning up here," she said nervously, leaning away from him.

"That's what the goblins are for!" he roared at her.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry! No one was cleaning it, and I didn't want to trouble anyone, I just wanted to make it look better!"

Her tears made him feel like a beast. Of course no one had cleaned the fire damage in his room. He'd told the goblins to leave it alone. It was a reminder and a warning of how far he would go to protect her. If he'd known how much it bothered Sarah, he would have had it taken care of a long time ago. He stared at the woman kneeling at his feet, and he felt something inside of him snap.

He had been obtuse in his dealings with her. He was treated her like the girl she had been, chasing her, trying to fulfill her desires, placing her on a pedestal from which she could never climb down. But she wasn't that girl anymore. Perhaps it was time he told her flatly what he expected of her. He owed her honesty, at least.

He didn't like seeing his Heart in a submissive position to anyone, even himself. _Damn Lilac's advice_, he thought as he reached down and grabbed Sarah's arm. He pulled her to her feet, ignoring her gasp of fear. He was still trembling with anger, but he thought he did a good job of tamping it down as he took her damp, sudsy hands in his.

"Sarah, it's time you knew," he said. "When you beat my Labyrinth, I chose you to be my Heart. You _are_ the Heart of the Labyrinth, one of its protectors, which is where your magic comes from. But more than that, you are _mine_. You are my queen, my consort, my other half. The reason my heart beats is because of you." The muscle in his chest was leaping wildly. He should have done this ages ago. Sarah was strong; she could withstand the declaration of his devotion. She had rejected him once, but there was no baby on the line this time, only the two of them. She would not reject him once she realized what he felt for her.

"You might as well say that I am yours," he continued. "When you triumphed over my Labyrinth, you earned everything I am. I am your king, your lover, your ardent defender. Sarah," his voice grew rough, "I love you."

He knew he might not receive a declaration in return, but he expected _something_. He realized he had not previously considered her feelings for him. He was so certain of his own love, that it never occurred to him that she did not feel the same for him. Even if all he received was a simple acknowledgement that his sentiments were genuine, he could be content that she would eventually return his feelings.

Instead, her face crumpled as tears fell down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Jareth," she gasped as if he was still shouting at her. "I promise it won't happen again!" Her eyes were glazed over, blankly staring as if she'd not heard a single word he'd said.

"I love you," he repeated, and the glassy look deepened. A chill ran down his spine as he realized something wasn't right with his Heart. It was like she was in some kind of trance, wasn't hearing what he said. He was so stunned he let her rip her hands from his. She fled, crying loudly. She started for the door, but he couldn't let her leave. He jumped in front of her—she flinched away as if he'd struck her—and locked the door.

He transported himself to Zinnia, grabbed the elf without a word, and brought them back to his room. "Help her," he ordered, shoving the maid at Sarah, now collapsed and heartbroken on the bed. He left again, this time finding Lilac as she was tending the wounded from a light skirmish with the trolls. He knew how much the physician hated being moved with his magic, but he didn't care as he brought them to a remote location of the Labyrinth where they wouldn't be overheard.

"Something is wrong with Sarah," he growled, pacing between bare stone walls.

"My lord?" Lilac was doing her best to cover her disorientation after being transported so suddenly. "Should we not go to her?"

"Zinnia is with her, getting her calmed down," he snarled.

Lilac looked taken back by his attitude. He was not being fair to her, but Sarah's behavior disturbed him too much to be polite. There was something wrong with her. He could feel it, just under the surface, but not touch it. He would have bet his kingdom that it was something to do with the trolls, and the Labyrinth agreed with him. It was as troubled as he by her reaction.

"What do you think is wrong with Lady Sarah?" Lilac asked in her reasonable tone.

He whirled on her. "I did not imagine it!" he shouted, the Labyrinth walls suddenly looming unnervingly over them.

Lilac only stared at him. He took several gulping breaths, and managed to calm his fear and anger enough to speak rationally. He described everything that happened when he walked into the room. The elf clucked disapprovingly at him.

"You're pushing at her again," she shook her head. "I keep telling you to wait. She is unsure of herself and her place right now."

"Her place is at my side," he declared harshly, "But that isn't it. It was like she couldn't hear me at all, as if I was speaking completely different words. I am telling you, there is something wrong with her mind. You need to find out what is wrong with her."

"If this is the way you declared your love for her, I can hardly blame her for refusing you," Lilac crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed. "Have you considered the fact that she just doesn't love you?"

White-hot fury blinded him. When he could see again, he was standing on the tallest wall in the Labyrinth—and he was holding Lilac over the edge by her throat. Her toes could barely reach the stone edge between his feet, taking some of the pressure off her neck. She squirmed a little, but otherwise did not fight him.

His teeth were bared again. "This is not because of what she does or doesn't feel for me," he gritted out, resisting the urge to tighten his grip until the delicate elf strangled. "This is not because I told her I love her—" he dipped his voice, said it in the same tender tone he had used on his Heart, "—and she said nothing. There is something in her mind that blocked my words. This is not the first time I've seen it." There had been clues all along, those moments when Sarah looked dazed, but he assumed it was because she was tired. "Find it. Or I will drop you."

Still he held her over the edge. He did not see her as his friend. She was an obstacle keeping him from his Heart. He had sworn that nothing would keep him from Sarah again, and here was this elf, not believing him when he said that his Heart was broken and needed help. His arm trembled, not with the strain of holding her up, but with the effort of not letting her go. He felt unlike himself, cold and furious, almost clinically detached from the situation. No, that was not like him at all. He was passionate; he felt strongly. He was hot and quick-tempered, cruel, but not this coldness.

He remembered Fairfellow's dying dream of a family of his own, Glengrass' dry wit, never to be heard again. Hadn't there been enough death today? Abruptly he transported them again. He dropped Lilac to sprawl, coughing, on the steps of his Castle, and disappeared once more.


	15. Visions

**A/N: Sorry for the late post today! For some reason I was thinking my next post was due tomorrow. Thanks for your reviews/follows/faves! It is great to receive feedback, both good and bad. This chapter is not as violent as the one before it, but I'll still keep the rating as M, because it deals with torture. I hope Jareth gets a chance to redeem himself a bit in this chapter. Happy Thanksgiving everyone, and safe travels!**

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><p>Chapter 15: Visions<p>

He was not fit for company. He was ashamed of what he'd done, and yet he knew he would do it again. There was no end to the lengths he would go for his Heart. He had always known that, but he had never though he would be tempted to murder his friend of six hundred years. No wonder Sarah didn't love him. He was a despicable creature. He lurked in the Labyrinth, prowling its passages and frightening the small creatures that lived there. The trolls attempted to enter his Labyrinth several times, and he dealt with them ruthlessly. He was of more use here than he was in the Castle, with his Heart.

He spied on her—he could not give her up—through his crystals. He saw her talking with Zinnia and Lilac, and sobbing into their shoulders. He could not hear what was said, but his chest kicked painfully, certain he was the cause of her tears. He felt Sarah mouth his name, but he stayed away from her. He had several hard truths to face. She did not love him. He was not a person that she _could_ love. He had imagined that he had done so much for her, but what had he done, really?

He had not protected her from the trolls. He could not heal the damage they did to her mind. He had kept her isolated in his bedroom, not allowing herself her own space. He had not brought her friends to her, though they asked about her constantly. Even knowing her fear of him, he did not leave her alone, always pushing at her, demanding more than she was able to give him. He should have sent her back Aboveground as soon as she woke up. What about her family up there? He never asked about them, never considered that she must be missing her. She had been here for weeks now; her family must be frantic for her return. He could reorder time for a matter of hours, not days or weeks.

He sank into despair. He dreaded returning to the Castle, for once he did, he knew he would offer Sarah her freedom. He might have dressed her in prettier clothes than the trolls, but he was just as much her jailor. Of course he would not send her back to Aboveground unprotected. A phalanx of unseen warriors would go with her, to protect her against being taken again.

He avoided other people for days, like the coward he was. He knew Lilac would cluck at him for his self-indulgent moping, but he couldn't think of her without extreme remorse and disillusionment clawing at him. He was… afraid to face his old friend, and equally afraid to face Sarah again. Lilac was her friend as well. She would hate him for threatening her friend's life. Yet another black mark against him.

He might have lingered in the Labyrinth for weeks longer, but one of his messenger goblins, Pidgeon, interrupted his self-imposed exile.

"My lord!" Pidgeon claimed as he ran up to Jareth. The Labyrinth was set up in such a way that those who lived there could always find him when in need. At the moment though, he wished he would have hidden himself better.

He faced the goblin, bracing himself. He didn't even feel the urge to kick Pidgeon. He remembered Sarah's _look_ when she realized he still kicked his subjects. At the time he had been amused by it, but now it seared his soul. Damn her for bringing such pain to him, for caring about everyone _but_ him.

Pidgeon blurted out his message, not noticing or caring about Jareth's bleak look. "You need to come to Lady Sarah! She is in trouble and we can't reach her!"

_What?_ Those were, perhaps, the only words that could have shaken him from his self-pitying stupor. He didn't waste words on a reply. He reached his connection to the Labyrinth, and located Sarah within his Castle. He attempted to transport to her side, but a nimbus of magic surrounded her, preventing him.

His temper—though it had gotten him into this mess to begin with—flared into a frantic, protective rage. He transported himself to just outside the cloud of magic, ready to _destroy_ it for keeping him from his Heart. He stopped when he recognized the magic. Not foreign, as he had feared, but familiar. It was _his_ magic, Labyrinth magic, his Heart's magic. Pulling back from doing something that could only hurt Sarah, he studied the magic before him.

He was in a hallway not far from his room. Sarah must have been taking a walk when a panic attack struck her. Instead of risking her magic lashing out like it had done with Spyglass, she had instead done her best to withdraw from everyone. His heart swelled with pride for Sarah. She had taken a leaf out of his book, and attempted to create a mini-Labyrinth around herself. The results were… well, it was clear she had been inspired by his escher room.

The hallway twisted in unpredictable ways in front of him. He really was quite impressed by the way she had defended herself. But if she was in a panic attack, he was the only one that could reach her and calm her down. For a moment he dared to hope that this was her way of calling to him… of forgiving him. No, he shoved the thought aside harshly. He had not apologized yet, and neither had he done anything to earn forgiveness. Even Sarah was not so magnanimous.

He stepped forward, his senses alert. He could banish her mini-Labyrinth with a thought—he was the Trial, the Labyrinth maker, after all—but he was determined to leave it intact, to travel its length as it was meant to be. He could tell it was not a terribly complex pattern. It was her first effort, and after eight centuries as the Goblin King he was a master maze-weaver.

Sure enough, once he was inside her mini-Labyrinth, he realized it was nothing more than a decreasing spiral toward the center where Sarah huddled. It was confusing because it was a vertical spiral, not horizontal, and gravity changed with each turn, requiring one to walk up and down the walls, and even across the ceiling. If you could cope with the shifting gravity, all you had to do was put one foot in front of the other and you'd reach Sarah eventually.

But the moment he stepped into her mini-Labyrinth, her felt her pain, fear, and grief. All his good intentions to preserve her maze came to nothing. He reached for it, and simultaneously created a shortcut directly to the center and added multiple layers of complexity to the outside. Some brave goblin could have managed to reach her in a few seconds, but now it was a true challenge to anyone who tried to enter.

"Sarah!" he called, emerging into the center.

His Heart screamed, curled into a tiny ball, rocking on her heels. His chest gave a sharp kick. She hadn't had such a bad attack since the beginning. If he couldn't reach her, he'd have to send her to sleep again. He crouched in front of her, grabbing her arms.

"No!" Sarah shouted, trying to jerk away from him.

He held onto her, trying to wrestle her into submission without hurting her. "Look at me, Sarah! _Look at me!_"

She kept her eyes locked tight, her face turned from him.

"Look at me!" he roared, shaking her. He did not mean to be so rough, but she was scaring him. Something told him that magic sleep wouldn't help this time. If he didn't get her back, she might be lost to him, forever. With a gasp her eyes flew open, and she looked at him. For the first time there was a hitch in her panic as she truly _saw_ him.

"J-Jareth?" she stuttered, staring at him desperately.

"Yes, it's me, _look at me_," he pleaded with her. The light in her eyes started to fade again.

"N-no," she begged. "D-don't—"

"Stay with me!" he commanded, shaking her again. Her head snapped back, jarring her teeth. He regretted her pain, but it made her look at him again.

"Jareth?" she asked again, gazing directly into his eyes. He felt himself start to fall into her mind and looked away, trying to avoid her thoughts.

"No!" she shrieked, and her hand clawed at his shirt. Not trying to push him away, he realized, but clinging to him. He looked back at her. Her breath shook painfully, her entire body trembling. She needed to see him looking at her, he realized. That was the only thing that was keeping her from her panic. So he met her eyes, bracing himself against invading her mind. He should have known he had no defense against her.

He wasn't so much drawn into her mind, as she seized him with both hands, yanked him in and refused to let go. He fell into her mind, and he saw—he saw… He saw so much…

_He saw a dull, grey, lifeless world. _Oh, my Heart, _he thought, _You never belonged there, did you? I should have never let you go.

_He saw the only flash of color in her world. He tried to shout a warning, recognizing a Fae glamor, but this was only a memory, and he couldn't change anything. He was shocked by how well the other Fae mimicked him, but Sarah realized something was wrong when she saw the stranger's eyes._

_He was stunned as he realized _why _Sarah always needed to see his face. It wasn't his face at all, but his _eyes, _his cursed and blessed eyes—_

_He saw Sarah wake in a cage made of bone. She didn't recognize the creatures they belonged to, but he saw the long bones of human, wolf-kin and deer-kin, dwarves, elves, and even the faintly silver sheen of Fae bones. Her clothes had been taken, and she wore the scratchy prisoner garb._

_She was surrounded on all side by trolls. They jeered at her, and poked at her through the bones with their crude weapons. She was frightened, but tried to defend herself. The trolls knew better than to injure her seriously, but she believed she could be killed at any moment._

_A Fae approached, and the trolls drew back. The Fae was wearing a glamor to look like Jareth again. The Goblin King growled as he tried to see under the Fae glamor and couldn't because Sarah hadn't known how. She was suspicious of the Fae, because she knew the one who took her was not Jareth, but she couldn't be sure until she saw his eyes._

No!_ Jareth shouted, but of course Sarah couldn't hear him. She met the Fae's eyes boldly, and fell into his trap. He had unlimited access to her mind. Memories flashed across her vison, Hoggle, the worm, her passageway through the Labyrinth. She fought against the Fae's hold on her memories, trying to pull back the images of her friends, but the Fae was too strong for her._

_Jareth saw a crystal sphere rolling through the darkness of the oubliette. He braced himself, knowing what was coming next. He wondered what it would be like to see himself through her eyes, and knew he was about to find out. But Sarah surprised him. With a cry of anguish, she somehow twisted free of the Fae's grasp._

_It hurt her to pull away from his mind like that; her nose bled freely. But she had done it, and it had affected the Fae too. He left to recover, leaving Sarah to the trolls. They tormented her again, pinching her with their sharp claws hard enough to draw blood. They made lewd gestures to heighten her fear. Jareth felt the dull pounding of rage in his own head. He wanted to reach through and strangle each troll that tormented his Heart._

_He saw the Fae return. This time she knew it was a trap and didn't look into his eyes. With a sharp burst of magic, the Fae opened the bone door of the cave and reached for her. He grabbed her arms the way Jareth had done so many times. "Look at me," the Fae said, trying to get access to her mind again. "LOOK AT ME!"_

Goodness, no, _Jareth thought, his stomach roiling as he realized all the times he had tried to help Sarah, he was only making it worse by unknowingly copying her captor's actions. The Fae shook her, crushing her arms and leaving bruises that would linger for weeks without magic intervention. Her eyes flew open, and the Fae once more trapped her in his gaze._

_Jareth saw Ludo, the Fierys, the Bog of Eternal Stench, Sir Didymus. Sarah cried and twisted as each thought was ripped from her mind. Then there was the overwhelming taste of peaches in his mouth. Another scene formed, a hint of a crystal ballroom—_

_With a cry of defiance, Sarah once again ripped her mind free of the Fae's. Something fluttered in her belly, a whisper of the magic that made her strong enough to resist when it was most important to her. It stilled before the Fae could detect it, but that told Jareth how Sarah had managed to protect certain parts of her memory. Even then, she was using Labyrinth magic._

_The Fae was furious with her. He back-handed her and locked her in the cage again. The trolls were relentless in their treatment of her. Her throat burned from screaming and dryness. She had been in the cage for two days without food, water, or sleep. She could feel herself weakening, and dreaded the return of the Fae._

_He did return. She was determined to fight him, but he overpowered her efforts with ease. Jareth wished he could see under the Fae's glamor, because he vowed to _kill_ this man for harming his Heart. They were nearly to the end of her journey now._

_He saw the junk ladies, the strange battle in the streets of the Goblin City. Then she was in his Castle, very soon now he would see her final confrontation with him. The image of his escher room started to form, but his Heart was so very brave, and determined to keep this to herself. She wrenched away from the Fae. Her very mind was torn apart and left raw, bleeding. She did not escape whole. Something was taken from her when she ripped free of the Fae's mind. It was a jagged slash in her mind that was, weeks later, still healing and barely held together by scar tissue. Jareth looked into the hole, and realized what had been taken from her._

_He felt sick._

_He saw the Fae screaming in rage, and the trolls started to beat on his Heat mercilessly. Blind panic filled her limbs. Her broken thoughts were simple: Get away, get away, get AWAY! The flutter in her belly was back, and it was stronger now. Sarah's memories shattered into confusion at that point, but Jareth knew what had happened. In a moment of desperate need, her magic had risen and had allowed her to escape. It did not matter how, only that she got away before they killed her._

_He saw her in a dark place, sick, frightened, and in pain. She knew something was wrong with her. She knew she was broken, but she was still striving on. He saw her sluggish thoughts as she came to the conclusion that no matter what, she was better off with Jareth than waiting for the trolls to find her._

Jareth pulled himself free with a gasp. He was still holding Sarah like the Fae had. With horror, he released her arms, but pulled her into his lap. She needed his support; she was unable to hold herself upright. He turned his head and bit down hard on his knuckle to keep from screaming. If he hadn't been wearing gloves, he would have broken his skin. He didn't want to frighten Sarah though, she had been through enough.

"Ja…Jare.." she whimpered, weakened by her ordeal. She was begging him not to leave her, begging him to ease her panic. With all that he had seen, how could he deny her? He turned to face her, conjuring a bright crystal light so she could see him clearly. She took note of his mismatched eyes, and sagged in his arms.

"That's right," he whispered to her, keeping his voice soft like the Fae never had. "See me. See me." He would never use the phrase _look at me_ again. That was the key to helping her: doing things that the other Fae had never done.

Mismatched eyes were seen as a terrible omen in the Fae world. The beauty of the Fae was flawless; to bear such a mark was a sign of the displeasure of the gods. He was technically the son of the High King, but when he was born with two different colored eyes, his family could not stand his blemish. He was a shame to them. He was less than ten years old, looking like a human child of that age, but still an infant in Fae terms, when they abandoned him on his uncle's doorstep.

His uncle had the thankless task of raising a sullen, neglected boy into a young man worth knowing. Age and disease had already started to ravage his uncle's body, and Jareth had not been an easy ward at first. He resented his family for deserting him over something he had no control over. He did not ask to be born like this. Only his uncle had seen something in him that could be saved, and tried to bring it out of him.

Later, when Jareth became the Goblin King after his uncle's death, he had to forsake all family ties outside the Labyrinth lest they try to influence him. He had seen the stark envy on his family's face. They never expected him to ascend to a position of such power, and they regretted that they had thrown him away. He had no hesitation in renouncing his family. As far as he was concerned, the only true family he had was his uncle.

His odd eyes made him a source of mockery to the Fae court, despite his status of Goblin King. He used his eyes to frighten, revolt, or entice others as he desired. He wondered often what life would have been like if his eyes were the same color. He likely would have been Crown Prince, instead of his younger brother. But then, why by a prince when you could be a king? He had learned to accept the way he looked. For the first time, he was _grateful_ for his altered appearance.

When the enemy Fae made a glamor to look like Jareth, he couldn't or _wouldn't_ replicate Jareth's odd eyes. That was what kept Sarah from slipping into madness now. So long as she could see one brown eye, one blue eye, she knew it was him, not the enemy come to hurt her again. The source of much pain and ridicule in his life was now vital to saving his Heart.


	16. Confessions

**A/N: Many thanks for your reviews! It seems the last chapter managed to clear up some issues and explain Sarah's behavior a bit better. There is still another moment of violence in this chapter, but that's the last of it until the end, so read at your own caution. Jareth is still redeeming himself here. From this point on we get to have some fluffier moments, and more progress on their relationship. Thanks for sticking with me this far!**

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><p>Chapter 16: Confessions<p>

"Sarah, precious, baby," Jareth murmured to his Heart over and over again. "I'm here, you're alright, I'll always be here for you. All you have to do is see me, just see me. I have you. I have you, you're safe." Tears burned at his eyes, and suddenly his words were tumbling over themselves.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for the way I didn't protect you, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. I'm sorry for the things I've done. I'm sorry for keeping you here, for not allowing anyone near you…" He understood now why she hadn't asked about her friends. In her mind, she had betrayed them when the Fae broke into her memories of them. Guilt held her back, guilt and sadness that they wouldn't want to be near her if they knew what she'd done. He knew it wasn't true. As soon as she recovered from this, he would bring her to her friends. They would treat her right, or he would bog the lot of them. Or maybe not, because it would upset Sarah.

He had many things to apologize for. "Sarah, precious, my Heart, my love," he repeated himself helplessly. "I love you, I'll hold you forever, you need never fear anything with me again, please just don't…" He had no right to ask that of her. He had treated her like a thing to possess, but his Heart was meant to be free. It was her choice if she wanted to be free of him. Besides, he could see that she didn't know what he was saying. That vacant look was back in her eyes, because of what the Fae had taken from her when she escaped him.

Anger stirred low in his gut, but for once it was contained and not so volatile. If there was one thing he'd learned from Sarah's mind, it was that Lilac was right about his temper. From now on he would strive to direct his fury to those who really deserved it, not his friends when they were trying to help him, and not his Heart when she couldn't help what was done to her.

Unable to bear the blankness in her gaze, he changed his words. "Sarah, precious, are you going to be okay? Can I bring Lilac and Zinnia in here?"

She whimpered and curled into him. His chest swelled with tender emotion. His gloved hand stroked her hair and back. "Okay, okay," he said, rocking her gently. "It's just me, I got you." He would be soft where the other Fae was hard, would be kind when the other was rough. She had put on healthy weight since coming to the Castle, but he didn't feel it now. She felt too light and fragile in his arms. It was as though he held a delicate glass butterfly, so fine the slightest breath might make it shatter.

Her eyes began to close with exhaustion. Worry gripped him. He didn't want her to fall into another panic when she couldn't see his eyes. "Sarah-precious, I know you're tired, but can you hang on a little longer? Can you see me? I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"'Sokay," she slurred tiredly. "Other never… held me. Keep… speaking."

"Of course, precious," he reassured her. He murmured of sweet nothings, though he was careful not to broach the subject of his love again. He spoke of her bravery, her beauty, his pride at her little maze. When words failed him, he began to describe her, lingering on the pale hue of her skin, the rich darkness of her hair, the fine structure of her features.

Her eyes were fully closed now, her cheek pillowed on his chest. His legs ached from holding the same position for too long, but he dared not move. She nestled against him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His voice grew hoarse from speaking so much, and his mind was drawing blanks. He was finishing up a rhapsody to her laugh and about to start quoting passages of law books his uncle had made him memorize when she began to stir.

"You," she said, rubbing her cheek on his shirt. Her hands were tangled in that same shirt, her elegant fingers surprisingly strong. He recognized her request to describe himself and paused. He knew what he saw in the mirror, but he had never thought to put it in words.

"My, my eyes," he faltered, "Are two different colors, but you know that already." He felt the old ache of rejection that his parti-colored eyes had caused, but refused to lay that on his Heart. He tried to think of what else to say, but was afraid any physical description might only remind her of the other Fae. "I am the Goblin King," he said hastily, when her brow furrowed at his silence. His tongue loosened, and he realized this was something he could talk about. The other Fae mimicked him, but was _not_ the Goblin King.

"My uncle was the Goblin King before me, did you know that? The title is not passed down among families, because each ruler must run the Labyrinth and win before they can be chosen. But my uncle raised me here in the Castle and Goblin City. He was sick, and I wanted to help him. I ran the Labyrinth wanting to find a cure for him, but instead he chose me to be his heir." He sighed. "My uncle was a good man. I fear I would have disappointed him in the last few weeks."

She turned her face into his chest. "No," she protested weakly. "Good man."

He stared down at her. "I am not a good man, not like my uncle. If only you knew the things I've done…"

"Tell me."

And so their roles were reversed for a moment. Sarah became his comfort as he laid out his wrongs. He was brutally honest, speaking of his possession of her, his rage when he'd thought she'd betrayed him, his desire to kill her. He spoke of fireballs and his temper, of Fairfellow, and dangling Lilac over the edge of the Labyrinth, wanting to drop her.

Sarah's eyes opened, and she stared at him. He was ashamed to meet her gaze, but she needed to see his eyes. He was certain he would see her disgust, but instead her look was filled with a softness he didn't deserve. She raised one trembling hand. He flinched, but she only placed it on his cheek.

"Forgive," she whispered, and absolved him of his guilt.

He stared at her in wonder. She closed her eyes again and relaxed deeply in his arms, worn out from her ordeal. She was past her panic now, but he still needed her.

"Sarah, Sarah," he chanted her name helplessly. "Can I kiss you?"

He did not dare hope for anything, but she smiled faintly without opening her eyes, tilting her head toward him. He bent over her and gently pressed his lips to hers. The hunger pulsed at him, but he ended the kiss before taking it too far. It was nothing more than a meeting of their lips, but it was freely given, and worth more than any touch he'd received before. He was glad he had not pressed for more when she giggled and pressed her face to his chest again. She nuzzled his shirt with her nose, inhaling deeply. His head spun for a moment at the sheer sensuousness of it.

"Smell different," she mumbled, muffled by her position. "Other smelled… bitter. Cinnamon and tarmac. You're cinnamon and amber. Better."

Part of him was horrified by her being close enough to the other Fae to smell him, but the other part of him was glad this was something else that set them apart in her mind. He cleared his throat. "Rest now, precious," he said softly, and began to sing to her. It didn't take much for her body to grow heavy as she fell asleep in his arms.

Once she was out—in a real sleep, not a magically induced one—he stood cautiously, still cradling her against him. He had to lean against the wall for a moment. His legs were almost numb from crouching for so long, but he would not complain. When he was sure of his strength, he carried Sarah out of the mini-Labyrinth she had created. Afraid the shifting gravity would disturb her, he created another short-cut to take them outside. He returned her mini-Labyrinth to its original state, removing the shortcuts and the protections he had added to it. After a second of thought, he connected the center to the hall on the other side of the mini-Labyrinth, so goblins and others would have a way through. He was proud of her first effort, and wanted to keep it.

A crowd of anxious goblins and other Castle staff greeted them when they emerged. A cheer started to go up, but was quickly silenced by his savage look. Lilac and Zinnia were among those waiting. The younger elf was too timid to approach him, but Lilac gave him a questioning look. She did not appear to be frightened of him after what he had done to her; he wouldn't have blamed her if she was.

He shook his head. "Just sleeping," he said hoarsely. He saw several goblins jump at the state of his voice. He didn't care. "No magic." He looked down at his Heart, and was lost to the sight of her innocent sleeping. Was this what she meant when she saw him sleeping on the settee?

There was a touch on his arm. He looked up to see Lilac standing next to him, examining Sarah. "She looks well," the physician said.

Sarah looked awful, pale and drawn, but he knew what Lilac meant. For once, his Heart was at peace.

"Would you like to rest with her?"

Even now, Lilac was careful to avoid separating them. He would no longer snap at her for suggesting he part from Sarah, but he appreciated her concern. He realized she was staring at him now. He couldn't imagine what he looked like, eyes red from crying, his face ravaged from baring his soul and reliving Sarah's horrors. He thought that sleeping next to his Heart, holding her close to him, was the best thing in the world, but there were more things he had to deal with.

"I know what they took from her," he said in a low voice. He gestured with his head for them to follow him as he carried Sarah to her bedroom. He placed her on the bed, gently disentangling her grip on him. She made a murmur of complaint.

"Jareth…" Not questioning. She knew it was him. She was protesting his release of her.

"Hush, precious," he said, resting his hand on her side. "Just for a little while. I'll always have you, remember?"

She snuggled back to sleep as he pull the blankets over her. He faced the elves. Zinnia was still uncertain, holding back. "Will you stay with her until I return?" he asked her. She nodded, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to Sarah. He steeled himself and turned to Lilac. She had a strange expression on her purple face as she looked from him to Sarah, surprised and speculative. It was as though she was seeing something she thought was impossible.

"Will you come with me?" he asked, holding out his hand to her. She hated the magical transportation, but she agreed by placing her hand in his. He took her to the outer Labyrinth walls. Lilac looked around, and froze for an instant.

"Should I run?" she asked, wondering if he had brought her here to finish what he started.

He answered honestly. "It wouldn't do you any good if you did."

She didn't move. He couldn't decide if she was brave or just stoic. After the way he'd attacked her, she still stood strong, watching him warily. But he had not come here to drop his friend over the edge. He looked out at the troll army. They saw him, and began to jeer. Some tried to throw weapons at him. He wove his magic into a shield to deflect any missiles that got too close, making sure to cover Lilac as well. He conjured a few crystals and began to roll them over his arms and hands.

Lilac relaxed minutely. She knew that when he played with his crystals like that, he was usually calm and bored. This time she couldn't have been more wrong. The anger he had been suppressing since witnessing Sarah's torture grew exponentially. The crystals picked up sparks of magic as they traveled across his form, building an explosive potential.

"I know what they took from her," he repeated. He spoke quietly, but something in his voice made Lilac flinch and step back. Suddenly his rage snapped. He seized a crystal and hurled it into the waiting troll army, where it burst with the force of a fire-bomb.

"They took—" he shouted, throwing another crystal, and another, "—her ability—" he grunted with effort, invoking larger and larger conflagrations on the army below, "—to believe—that I—love her!" He screamed his rage and pain, raining down fire and death on the army. They weren't jeering now, but shrieking, fleeing for their lives. The heat of his fires blasted at them from the walls, tightening the skin on his face. What would Sarah think of this?

Abruptly he fell to his knees. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing brokenly. "I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm sorry for what I did to you, Lilac. It was wrong, and I knew it."

He expected her to leave him then. It was what he deserved. Instead he heard the whisper of material, and a light touch on his shoulder. He didn't raise his head.

"Did Lady Sarah also forgive you?" she asked in her low voice.

He nodded miserably, then froze as he realized what she said. _Also_.

"I do forgive you, my lord," Lilac said, and paused. "Jareth."

In six centuries, it was the first time she used his name familiarly. "I don't know what to do," he confessed raggedly. He was lost without his Heart, and he knew now that the other Fae had damaged her far more than he'd thought.

"Do you love her?" Lilac asked rationally.

"More than life," he admitted easily.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Do you intend to throw yourself from this wall then, because you fear you cannot have her?"

"No!" he said quickly. He was too much of selfish creature to do that. He would spend as much time as he could with his Heart, even if, as Lilac said, he would never truly have her. Even now he felt the urge to return to her side.

"Then I do not think you are looking at this logically."

He laughed bitterly. "I don't think there is much logic involved in the matters of the heart."

"Maybe not," she agreed, "but consider this for a moment. They damaged her ability to believe that you love her, but they didn't take away her ability to love you, or your love for her."

Now he was the one who stopped breathing. Lilac had been adamant before that Sarah did not love him. What had changed to make her say differently now? He raised his face to look at the physician, a painful whisper of hope trailing through his chest. "Do you think…?"

She regarded him thoughtfully. "I think it is not as distant a possibility as I once believed."

Previously he might have grinned in triumph and leapt to his feet. Now he remained on his knees, knowing that nothing was for certain. Lilac said it was a possibility. He was not as arrogant as to think Sarah's love was a guaranteed thing. And after learning what had been taken from her, his path was even less clear.

"What do I do?" he asked again.

"Do you love her?" she repeated.

"My answer has not changed in the last few minutes," he said dryly.

"Then that is what you do."

He gave her a blank look.

She sighed impatiently. "Love her. Love her as she deserves, prove to her that you are someone worthy of _her_ love, and maybe one day, she will return you regard."

"Would she love someone that doesn't love her in return? Would it be fair to her to allow her to continue in such a state?"

Lilac raised a finger. "But you're wrong. She would not be loving someone who doesn't love her. The only thing affected is what she believes of you. The scar is in her mind, not her heart. If you cannot tell her directly how you feel, then _show_ her. Her heart will be touched, even if her mind doubts."

Was it really so easy? He trusted Lilac. He had been cruel to her, but her loyalty to him was still firm. He shook his head in wonder, and climbed to his feet. He looked out over the destruction of the troll and ogre armies. They were too far for him to reach now. He turned back to his friend. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For still having faith in me. Shall we return now?" He held his hand out to her.

She sighed in resignation, but took his hand. Instead of transporting them, he led her to a staircase that hadn't been there a few seconds ago. They traveled down it. With each step, the Labyrinth shifted around them. Lilac looked around curiously, having never seen this part of his magic before. It was a long staircase, but not nearly as long as it could have been. The bottom step ended at the Castle's front door.

Lilac gave him an incredulous look. He shrugged, grinning mischievously. "Teleportation's faster." He was still the Goblin King, after all.


	17. Remembering

**A/N: Many thanks for your reviews, follows and faves! I wonder what Sarah thinks of everything that just happened? Shall we find out? Currently, I have finished 23 chapters of this story. I have probably 2-3 more chapters before I start working on the end, which will be another 3-4 chapters at an estimate. Of course I could be completely wrong about everything, so no guarantees! I just wanted to give you guys a heads-up about how long this story is becoming. Are you looking forward to the holidays coming up? I know I am!**

Chapter 17: Remembering

Jareth was acting different. It began shortly after he yelled at Sarah for scrubbing the floors. Remembering that moment caused a blush of shame to rise to her cheeks. She thought she had been doing so well. She was starting to learn how to recognize Jareth even without seeing his eyes, and she was growing stronger day by day. The only problem was that she had been… well, getting bored.

Jareth was practically her only company, and he was only there in the mornings. The magic lessons were interesting, but for the rest of the day she had nothing to do but eat and sleep. That had been fine in the beginning when she could barely stir five steps without growing dizzy, but now that she spent more time awake, she wished she had something to do.

She'd only wanted to make herself useful. Now that she was getting better, she felt a little flicker of dread in her stomach every time she saw Jareth. Not because he reminded her of the _other_, but because he had complete control over her stay in the Underground. She liked being here again. The magic resonated within her, like a friendly hum of greeting every time she reached for it. She missed her old friends, but she figured they wouldn't want to see her after what she'd done.

The trolls had looked for a passage through the Labyrinth in her mind. She had given it to them. After her betrayal, she didn't really want to look at herself either. But living in the Underground was so much more than she'd expected. She enjoyed meeting the goblins and other races who lived in Jareth's Castle. Food had taste again. Every morning she woke to a new day, not knowing what was ahead of her, but eager to greet it. Her life was filled with color.

And so she was dreading the moment when Jareth would send her home again. She missed her family, but she barely had contact with them since she went to college. It was always the same things with them. Had she chosen a major yet? How about a boyfriend? No? Well, why not? And so she avoided them. No one asked those questions here. There were no expectations to weigh her down. She was free to live however she wanted.

Jareth had been unusually generous to keep her in his Castle thus far, but she didn't like feeling like she was freeloading off of him. She thought if she made herself useful, proved she could work as hard as the goblins, he might let her stay on as a servant or something. She hadn't expected him to get so mad over her working. She wasn't even sure why he was so upset. He said something about goblins doing the work, and then… everything got rather blurry.

But she had angered him. It was so bad that he had abandoned her for days. She missed him. She suspected he had been sleeping on the settee, more often than the one time she'd seen him. It was like she could… feel him. The thought made her blush again. She'd have to be dead to not notice how handsome the Goblin King was. She was flattered by his attention, but knew better than to expect anything to come from it. She was just Sarah Williams, twenty-one year old stowaway to the Underground.

When she made Jareth mad, she thought for sure that was the last straw. She had earned herself either a bogging or worse: banishment back to her old life. He stayed away, and she hoped that meant he was taking the time to cool off before facing her again. How long could the Goblin King stay mad at someone? She had the uncomfortable feeling it could be a very long time.

Lilac and Zinnia were not disturbed by Jareth's absence, and so Sarah tried not to let it bother her either. Still, she couldn't help looking for him. Would an apology help, or was Jareth's anger too great for that? If these were the last few days of her stay in the Underground, she wanted to enjoy them as much as possible.

She took slightly longer walks outside the guest room, trying to savor everything she could see. She was pushing herself more than was wise, as was witnessed by her frequent exhaustion and the need to be helped back to the room. With Jareth not around, there were fewer triggers for her bad memories. She should have been relieved, but she found herself missing him. Perhaps it was better to distance herself from him now, before she went back to her old life, and she felt his loss too keenly.

It was a stupid thing that triggered her panic attack. She had been doing well to avoid them, but this one caught her unaware. When Jareth was around, his resemblance to the _other_ was a known factor, something she could prepare for, even if she could not completely block her reaction. This time, however, it was goblins.

Silly little goblin guards, dressed in clanking armor and carrying a ragged assortment of weapons. She smiled at them as they passed her. She didn't recognize any of them, but she appreciated the feeling of being protected by the goblin army. But once they were behind her, out of sight, the fear hit from nowhere. It was the sound of their armor, their sniggers and the rap of their weapons that did it to her. Without the visual to confirm these were really goblins, she was suddenly surrounded by trolls.

She thought she screamed. She knew she fell, instinctively curling into a ball as she tried to protect herself. She felt a powerful surge of warmth in her chest as her magic rose with her panic. She didn't want to hurt anyone, the way she had tossed that poor little goblin that startled her. She didn't know what she was doing, but she curled her magic around her, trying to prevent some unfortunate soul from venturing too close. All she could do was fight against her fear, and pray she controlled it before something bad happened.

She had no idea how long she was lost in memory, but suddenly Jareth was there. It was the first time she saw him in days. Part of her was happy to see him, but another part screamed in terror, because he looked so much like the _other_. She clutched at him, but he acted like the _other_ too. Usually if she could hold onto some feature that was uniquely Jareth—his eyes, his scent, his voice when he spoke softly—she could push back the fear. But when he spoke and grabbed her like the _other_, that made everything worse.

It was only his eyes that could pull her back from the brink of madness. For some reason he did not like to look at her, but she needed him in that moment. She begged shamefully, and he met her eyes, allowed her to see the different colors she never saw anywhere else. The memories had come swarming up them, but it hadn't been so bad to relive them. She felt somehow that Jareth was with her. Despite his indifference to her, she believed she would not come to harm with him.

Afterwards she mostly remembered that he held her so tenderly. He spoke to her. His words were a little fuzzy, but he said her name a lot. He apologized too, for what she wasn't entirely sure of. But she remembered him talking about his uncle. How strange, that she never wondered about Jareth's family, or that he hadn't always been the Goblin King. And he thought he wasn't a good man! Admittedly their first meeting wasn't ideal, but then she was just a bratty teenager too. Ever since coming back to the Underground, he had done his best to help her, for no reason that she could see.

Even telling her the things he had done did not convince her that he was a bad man. She was not exactly surprised that he had not welcomed her presence in the Underground again. She had not left on the best of circumstances last time, and she remembered the anger on his face when she called him in the cave. That made his behavior since then a lot more puzzling. As for the young man Jareth killed, she thought that was a sign of his compassion than evidence of his depravity. She remembered how awful the troll poison felt when she was infected, and wouldn't wish it on anyone.

The young man had been given the best death that was possible, in those circumstances. Maybe even now he was still dreaming inside the crystal sphere. What Jareth had done to Lilac was harder to understand, but ultimately, she realized it was not her place to judge him. She was acting as his confessor, not his executioner, so she forgave him. Whether or not he made peace with Lilac was between the two of them now.

She first noticed his new demeanor the morning after the panic attack. She was in bed, waking slowly, when she became aware that she wasn't alone.

"Good morning, precious," murmured a voice that featured equally in her dreams and nightmares. Her eyes popped open in fear, searching for—two different colored eyes looked back at her, and her body relaxed. In the next moment her cheeks flamed as she realized Jareth was in bed with her. What was he doing here? She snuggled deeper in the blankets, making sure she was covered. She was wearing only the over-sized shirt she slept in, while he was fully clothed and lying on top of the blankets.

She was reasonably sure nothing had happened between them, but it was still a shock to see him there. His head laid on the pillow next to hers, his white-blond hair looking temptingly soft. It was a good thing the bed was large, otherwise he would have been too close for comfort. Even this was a little much for her, but she struggled not to show it. Her heart was beating too quickly, aware of his lean form stretched out before her, and aware that he would never look at her with any desire. He was the Goblin King, a being of immense power and responsibility. She was a mere interloper in his kingdom.

"Will you be alright?" Jareth asked softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. She struggled not to react. The gesture was tender, but as always the touch of gloves inspired a spark of fear in her. The _other_ always wore gloves when he touched her. She had no right to complain about it. It was just one more stupid thing she had to deal with because of her imprisonment. Considering she hadn't been in that twisted bone cage for more than a day or two, it had sure left a lot of residue she had to cope with. There were days she felt so weak, unable to face anyone because of her shame. Jareth didn't seem to hold her betrayal of his Labyrinth against her, but she knew what she had done.

His fingers stroked down her cheek and neck, then over her shoulder. Her body tightened as she waited for him to grab her arm. She _knew_ it was Jareth touching her, but instinct still expected the _other_ to seize her in a crushing grip, to shake her until she bit her tongue. Instead, his hand ghosted down her side, away from the flinching area of her arm, and stopped on her hip. Her eyes widened. This was new. She was certain that he was not making a move on her, but, well, _her hip_. Even just innocently resting there, layers of blankets between them, she was aware of his contact as keenly as if he was touching bare skin.

Her mind was quite befuddled, and she belatedly realized he'd asked a question. What was the question? Will she be alright? What an odd way of speaking; most people just asked _how are you?_

She cleared her throat, more than half her attention focused on the hand still lying innocently on her hip. "I am alright," she said. He voice was rough from sleep, and she had an awful moment when she wondered if she had morning breath. How embarrassing to spew morning breath all over the Goblin King! She wanted to bury her face in the pillows and die of mortification.

His thumb absently stroked the upper curve of her hip, and her entirely body jolted. He withdrew his hand, laying it casually across his thigh. Her eyes followed the movement, and then she blushed as she realized where she was looking. She was certain the last thing the Goblin King wanted was to be ogled by a common mortal girl. She clenched her hands against the urge to reach out toward him, and in that moment she realized something else.

She was holding Jareth's hand. His gloved hand rested between both of hers. She disliked the feel of the glove, but she enjoyed his warmth and firm hold on her. For some reason it sent a thrill through her. Was this the reason she felt she wasn't alone, even when she was sleeping?

"Uh," she said articulately, "I'm sorry." She disentangled her fingers from his, tucking her hands under her chin. She missed his touch.

"I'm not," he said simply. He left his hand where it was. Didn't his arm fall asleep from laying on it? And how had she ended up clutching his hand anyway?

"You reached out for me, and I was there for you," he said as if in answer to her unspoken question. His eyes were distant, not really looking at her. Probably for the better. And then his gaze snapped to hers. "I will always be there for you."

She swallowed hard, suddenly feeling too warm under the blankets. Why did he have to say things like that when she was feeling so vulnerable? _He's not interested in you, so get a grip!_ she told herself sternly.

Jareth made a soft noise in the back of his throat. "Sarah," her name was a caress from his lips, "May I kiss you?"

_No, no, no!_ That was _not_ what she needed right now. She used to dream of his kisses, before she realized he could never be interested in a mere human girl. She knew a kiss from him meant nothing; it only confused her own reaction to him. He had kissed her yesterday, when she was half-delirious from exhaustion. He had asked her permission for that one too. It had set her heart fluttering wildly, even though it was a mere press of their lips. Jareth lounged in bed, looking at her appealingly. She could deny him nothing.

She jerked her head in a nod. She hoped he didn't feel the bed shaking with her trembling. He leaned toward her slowly, giving her time to protest if she wanted. She didn't know what she wanted. His hand landed on her hip again, guiding her movement. Her breath caught in her throat. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for Jareth's touch. It seemed to take forever for him to kiss her, and when he did, it was not on her lips as she expected.

His kissed her forehead, a tender gesture that was somehow more intimate than the kiss they shared yesterday. He didn't pull away, but lingered with his lips on her forehead, his nose nestled in her hair. He inhaled slowly.

"You smell of vanilla and sunshine," he said in a sultry voice that sent shivers up and down her spine. His own scent of amber cinnamon swamped her. Her hands wanted to reach for him, to curl in his shirt and see if it was as soft as she remembered it. She kept her hands to herself, knowing Jareth would not want her hanging on him.

He leaned back at last, and she felt cold without him. His hand rubbed up and down her side, half-comforting half… disturbing in the feelings he unconsciously woke in her. "I want to take you somewhere today," he said, still with that maddening, slow rubbing. Her legs twitched, and her breath hitched.

"Will it be far?" she asked, and cursed herself as her voice came out breathless. Well, it was his own fault for making her sound like that!

His head tilted to the side, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "It will not be," he said mysteriously. Before she could formulate an answer, he added briskly, "I will leave you to get dressed. Wear something comfortable." With a smooth motion that betrayed his inhuman strength, he rolled to his feet.

He stretched his arms over his head in a full body ripple, like a cat showing off his muscles. She couldn't help but to watch him. One of his eyebrows quirked in amusement. She stopped breathing for a moment. There were times when the Goblin King was just a man, but there were also moments when the man was the _Goblin King._ He was a being of power and majesty. It rolled off of him in waves, so regal it almost hurt to look at him.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter," he called with a casual disdain. There was never any doubt that he _would_ be obeyed. It was as if the very world around them listened to him when he was like this. And then the moment was past, and he was just a man again. She shook herself sharply to stop gaping at him.

The door opened, and Zinnia came in. She caught the tail-end of his royal aura, and dipped into a deep curtsy. Sarah suppressed a sigh of envy. She wished she could be half so graceful. She jumped when Jareth called her name.

"I will see you shortly, Sarah," he said, and it was both a warning and a command. It reminded her that she was not Aboveground, where kings were a long distance memory in her country. She did not know how to deal with royalty, with someone who held complete control over everything around him. He strode out the door.

Once it shut behind him, Zinnia let out a girlish giggle. "His majesty is a good man," she said, looking at Sarah.

_Yes, he is,_ she thought, and then pulled a pillow over her head with a groan. He was a good man that she had poisoned with morning breath, and held captive while she slept. It would have been much easier if he'd only thrown her into an oubliette the first time he found her. Zinnia found her antics amusing, and giggled again.

"Are you ready to get dressed?" the elf-maid asked.

Sarah was not used to anyone waiting on her. In some ways, Lilac's assistance was easier to accept than Zinnia's. Lilac had that impersonal-but-effective method of a professional nurse. When Sarah was weak and sick, she had needed help. Now that she was stronger and could dress on her own, she did not understand why she had a lady's maid assigned to her.

She did not dare mention it to Jareth. She didn't want to seem ungrateful. When she tried to subtly ask Lilac, she got one of those _looks_ that made her feel like she hadn't studied for a test, and had forgotten something vitally important. When she tried to tell Zinnia that she wasn't really anyone special, that she didn't deserve anyone to help her, the orange elf had laughed and said being a lady's maid was a far cry better than being a seamstress, and she was grateful for the position regardless of who Sarah was.

That made Sarah feel churlish, and she chalked up Zinnia and the gift of clothes as another mark of Jareth's generosity. It also reinforced the idea that there was something going on that she didn't understand. At times Lilac, Zinnia and even Jareth spoke over her head about _something_. She had a vague idea that it might be about her, but for some reason it didn't seem important enough to ask about.


	18. Undressing

**A/N: Wow, over 30 reviews for this story! I'm very grateful to everyone who has reviewed, followed, faved, or even just lurked around this story!**

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><p>Chapter 18: Undressing<p>

"I think I'd like to wear pants today," Sarah said, getting out of bed before Zinnia could come over and pull down the blankets for her. She was grateful for Zinnia's help, but she didn't like to be a burden to anyone and tried to do as many things for herself as possible. Zinnia tittered, half scandalized, half impressed by Sarah's choice.

In this quasi-medieval world, women did not wear pants. Jareth had explained it to her matter-of-factly, though his eyes had drifted with stark speculation to her skirts. The gesture reminded her that he was still a man, for all that he was Fae and the Goblin King. She wasn't bothered by his look, the way she was when human men had leered at her. For all that Jareth was a man, he was also a noble, and had better restraint than many.

She missed the freedom to run and move that wearing pants gave her, not that she was able to do much running and moving at the moment. She still got out of breath after half a flight of stairs. The thought of trying to conquer the escher room left her quivering in terror.

Of course, when she asked Jareth for pants, she had been thinking of her worn but serviceable jeans. She hadn't been thinking of these silky black slacks that fell in loose, shimmering waves to her ankles. If she stood still, it was hard to tell she wasn't wearing a skirt. These pants were a lot nicer than anything she'd worn in the modern world, and she felt a little guilty for asking so much from Jareth. She also discovered another oversight in her wardrobe.

She had plenty of dresses, casual lightweight clothes as well as the ornate clothes Jareth had first brought, and a handful of pants in the same style of the black slacks. There were no blouses to go with the pants. Sarah and Zinnia stared at the wardrobe with the same puzzlement, trying to decide what to do. Thankfully, early on when Sarah was spending more time asleep than awake, Lilac had taken it on herself to procure a variety of underthings for her, so that was at least one embarrassing thing Sarah didn't have to ask Jareth for.

After deciding that a blouse wasn't going to magically appear in wardrobe, Sarah struggled and turned to the clothes that were already in place when they arrived. They were obviously masculine clothes, and she wondered who they could belong to. Who would keep so many clothes in a guest bedroom? It must be someone who came to visit often, or perhaps someone who lived here and was just away for a time.

The male clothes were even nicer than the things Jareth had given her, so it must be a noble like him. Did he have a brother that lived with him? But no, he spoke of having to renounce his family when he became the Goblin King. She felt sorry for him, but his voice had indicated _good riddance._ But the only other person who lived at the castle who these clothes might belong to was—

There was a sharp flash of pain in her head, and suddenly she was dizzy. Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. She lifted a hand to her temple, swaying on the spot.

"My lady?" Zinnia asked, taking her arm to steady her.

"I'm alright," Sarah said automatically, and indeed her symptoms faded as fast as they had come on. "I was just thinking…" What had she been thinking of? She shrugged. "Nothing important. I think I would like to wear this one," she touched the long sleeve of a muted gold shirt. Zinnia obediently pulled it out, and helped Sarah into it. Sarah couldn't help but laugh when she saw how the shirt draped over her. It was every bit as large as her white sleep-shirt.

"Okay, is there something smaller?" she asked, holding up her hands. The ends of the sleeves hung down at least six inches below her fingers.

Zinnia cocked her head to the side. "Just a minute, miss," she said, and pulled out her needle. The young elf was a wizard at alterations, and she had a spool of thread that never ran out and was always the same color as the cloth she was working on. Sarah played the part of a mannequin as Zinnia worked around her. Zinnia moved the buttons on the cuffs so they would fasten securely around Sarah's wrists, and then added a gather between her shoulders to take in much of the extra material.

Sarah began to grow nervous, and fidgeted. She hoped whoever owned these clothes would not be maddened by the changes she made in them. When she mentioned it to Zinnia, the elf sniggered. "If he did not want this, he should not have left you in here with them," she replied gleefully. Despite her statement that being a lady's maid was better than being a seamstress, she still loved to ply her needle to cloth.

Lastly, Zinnia moved around to the front, and sewed up the open collar partly closed so it was less revealing. Men could walk around with half their chest exposed, as Jareth was fond of doing on occasion, but it was considerably less comfortable for Sarah to do the same. Zinnia stepped back and eyed Sarah critically. She adjusted the lay of the shirt a couple times, and nodded with satisfaction.

Sarah looked at herself in the mirror. The shirt was still too large for her, as evidenced by the loose folds of cloth at her wrists and waist, but it looked deliberate, rather than a stolen article from someone else's closet. She looked rather… dashing, she thought. The shirt by itself could have belonged to a swashbuckler, but the pants made her lower half look sleek and sophisticated. Overall, she looked like one of those powerful businesswoman at her old job, strong but still with a hint of sensuality.

Her body was still nothing to look at, but she had filled out since coming under Jareth's wing, so she wasn't entirely gaunt anymore. In short, there was a stranger in the mirror. Impulsively she stuck her tongue out at herself and laughed as it broke the spell she had woven over herself. There she was, Sarah Williams, young woman not too sure of her life at the moment. Zinnia laughed with her.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said with all the confidence she could muster. She had to admit the clothes made her look good, and gave a boost to her self-esteem that had been sadly lacking for a while.

She stepped out of her room, to see Someone leaning against the wall, waiting for her. Her body tightened with the memory of pain. Because she was watching for his eyes—blue and brown, which meant Jareth, and safety—she saw his pupils dilate as he took in her attire. And then a strange look came over his face. His expression darkened like anger, but his eyes blazed.

He stepped forward as she took an involuntary step backward. He was chasing her, a panicked part of her brain thought. She forced herself to stop moving, because everyone knew you didn't run from a predator. Besides, this was Jareth, who would never hurt her. She just wished she knew what caused his burning look, and if he was furious, or something else.

He halted in front of her, standing within her space. The heat of him swamped her, not gentle like when he kissed her, but almost searing. Or maybe that was her own reaction to him. He reached out and caught her forearms. The long sleeves of the shirt protected her arms from his gloves, but she still had to suppress a shudder of distaste.

His hands slid down her arms to capture hers. Her heart lurched from the contact, but she tried not to show it. In this burning mood, she didn't know what he might do. He would not hurt her, at least on purpose, but he was unpredictable in this moment. He raised her hands, still holding her eyes with his hot gaze. He kissed the back of her hands, once each.

"My Sarah," he murmured, sending a shiver down her spine. "You do look lovely in that."

The possessive use of her name did not bother her. She was in his Labyrinth, under his care and protection. He had complete say over her future at the moment. She might as well belong to him. But the rest of his words made a flush rise to her cheeks. She supposed outrageous compliments were part of his old-world upbringing, but she wished he wouldn't turn them on her.

"Th-thank you," she said nervously. A small moue of displeasure crossed Jareth's face, but was quickly masked. He lowered her hands, and finally released her. She was relieved to be free of the touch of his gloves. She reached back and lightly clasped her hands behind her back so he wouldn't grab them again.

"Shall we go?" he offered, turning his body and holding out his arm to her.

She hesitated. The last time they tried this, when she wanted to see the balcony, it hadn't worked out so well. That was a few weeks past though, so maybe it would be better? She placed her hand carefully in the crook of his elbow. His shirt, similar in style to hers, was silky to the touch. His muscles were firm under her hand, and she hadn't realized how cold she was until she felt his warmth.

She glanced away briefly, and stiffened with the knowledge that Someone stood next to her. She looked back quickly. Jareth, not the _other_. She had a sinking feeling that not enough had changed since the balcony. This could only end in one way, with Jareth stalking off angrily, and Sarah shivering in a corner.

He looked down at her, meeting her eyes. "Stay with me, Sarah," he said, and stepped forward without ever taking his eyes from her. That wasn't so bad; with eye contact, he remained Jareth. She stepped with him, and the walls of the Castle moved with them in a nauseating blur. It was like watching streetlamps pass by on the freeway, slow from far away, but very fast close up. She froze, catching her breath in her throat. She looked around in panic; they were not in a part of the Castle she recognized from her limited exploration.

Someone moved beside her. She whipped toward him. Blue and brown met her gaze; Jareth, safety. "What happened?" she asked, her voice squeaking.

"It is only the Castle moving around us," he explained, his voice deep and soothing.

She nodded slowly. He took another step. Again the world spun around her. "Please stop," she gasped. "I need a moment." She breathed deeply, trying not to vomit on the Goblin King's shoes. Her stomach roiled dangerously. She couldn't look away from him, because as soon as she did, Someone was looming over her. She didn't think she could stand another step like that. He moved in front of her, holding her eyes. He took her hands again. She shuddered uncomfortably. He frowned, his head tilted to the side.

"The Labyrinth is a part of you," he said, "This shouldn't bother you."

"I'm sorry," she panted, "I don't mean to be difficult."

His eyes flashed. His jaw tightened, and he lifted his chin. "_You_ are not being difficult. Come with me."

He steps backwards, tugging at her hands so she had to go with him. All light and matter swirled in her vision. Jareth was the only thing that remained steady. Even still, her gorge rose. He stopped moving, watching her reaction with a furrowed brow. She could taste bile in the back of her throat.

"Close your eyes, we're almost there," he urged.

She obeyed, but as soon as she closed her eyes, she was aware of Someone holding her hands. She stifled a shriek. Her eyes flew open, but even looking at Jareth didn't help her. The touch of leather gloves on her skin forced her back into painful memories. She jerked away from him, rubbing her hands on her pants.

"I'm sorry, I just can't do it," she was trembling.

He regarded her through narrowed eyes. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," she shook her head, ashamed of her reaction. She ducked her face as far as she could without losing sight of his eyes.

"Sarah," he warned, using a finger under her chin to raise her head. She flinched from even that small contact. "What is it?"

His voice was quiet, but it was a command she couldn't ignore. "It's… it's the gloves," she half-sobbed. "The—the _other_ always wore them, and whenever I feel the leather, it's like I never left." She wished she could hide her face again, but she was too afraid of losing Jareth to her screwed up mind.

He raised his hands in front of him, looking at his palms, and then turned them over and held them to her as if inviting her to inspect his fingernails. "Take them off," he said simply.

"Jareth?" she asked hesitantly.

"Take them off," he commanded again. She reached for him slowly, her hands jerky and awkward. She had to touch the gloves to take them off. She rested her fingers on the back of his hand, wincing at the feel of it. She pushed back his sleeve to his elbow, for the glove extended halfway up his forearm. She gripped his arm above the cuff and began tugging at the end of his fingers. The glove was very snug to his hand, and fit like a second skin. It took quite a bit of pulling and wiggling before it came free.

She did not give herself time to look at his newly bared skin, but quickly turned to the other glove and repeated the process before she lost her nerve. Her heart was beating with a strange excitement, part nerve at her own daring, and part something she couldn't name. He took the gloves once both were off and tucked them into his belt, then held his hands in the same position as before, allowing her to study them.

And study she did. She stared at his hands as if they were something she had never seen before. Well, she hadn't seen _his_ hands before. She half-expected him to have scars or secret markings that were the key to his power, but instead she was faced with a quite ordinary set of hands. They were as pale as the rest of his skin, long fingers and wide palms. There was not a freckle to mark him, not a tan-line or even a ring.

She was helplessly drawn to him, and delicately ran her fingers over his skin. She heard his faint intake of breath, but he didn't protest. His skin was soft, far softer than the leather. It had such a warm, _living_ feel to it that she would never mistake the touch of his hands for gloves. She touched his knuckles, feeling the wrinkles and slightly tougher skin there. She turned his hands over, and traced the lines of his palms. Even the swirls on her fingertips were fascinating to her.

Her smaller, lightly tanned hand fit on top of his, and she discovered something new on his palm and fingers. Callouses, some on his fingers as if from writing instruments, but also on his palms. She somehow knew those came from long hours of practice holding a sword. She had never seen a man Aboveground who had such callouses, but here, they were a natural part of Jareth's hand. Now that she saw them, she would have been more surprised if they _weren't_ there.

Her eyes trailed up his arms. His wrists were narrow and supple, conveying both strength and grace. The same twist that might impale a sword through an enemy also twirled crystals over his hands, or brought a dance partner tighter against him. His forearms were leanly muscled, with pale hairs that should have looked delicate but weren't. His veins were blue under his skin, and she felt an odd desire to kiss the flow of his life-blood. The sleeves blocked her further perusal, but she caught a glimpse of the curve of his biceps.

She realized that in all this time as she observed him, she had never once looked at his face, and never mistook who he was. She looked up at him in wonder. Her heart almost stopped with fear for him. He stood with his head bowed, his body as hard as stone. His jaw was clenched, his teeth bared in a rictus of pain or anger. Powerful lines of tensions radiated down his shoulders, and practically quivered through the rest of his form.

"I'm sorry!" she yelped, jerking her hands away from him. All she could think was that her touch had hurt him somehow. Was that why he always wore gloves, to protect himself from pain? He raised his head, and he had that wild burning look in his eyes again. She stepped back nervously. His body leaned toward her, but his feet didn't move.

"What are you sorry for?" he demanded through gritted teeth.

"I… does it hurt?" she asked cautiously. His burning look made her feel nervous. Her heart was skyrocketing, and she thought she might faint if it went any faster.

"No," he answered succinctly. He took a moment to compose himself. When his face looked more normal—only his eyes betraying the storm of emotion inside him—he held his hands out to her. "Is this better?"

It took her a moment to realize what he was asking.

"Oh! Yes, it is," she admitted shyly. "Without the gloves, I didn't think of… the _other_, at all."

He didn't answer, only pushed his hands forward again. He wanted her to take them again. She wanted to, but wasn't convinced that it didn't bother him in some way. Since he wore gloves all the time, maybe touch was disgusting to him. She didn't want to cause him more pain and stress than she already had.

"Sarah," he huffed impatiently, "Are you afraid of me?"

Her spine stiffened. She stood straight and looked him in the eye. _Yes_, but not for the reasons he thought. She took a small step forward and placed her hands in his. He gave an almost imperceptible shiver when they touched, but otherwise showed no reaction. His fingers closed on hers, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. It was her turn to suppress a tremor. Not from fear, but because her heart had just skipped a beat. Looking into Jareth's blazing eyes, she felt as though there were something very important she was missing, something like—

There was a flash of pain behind her eyes. She clenched his hands for support and shook her head.

"Sarah?" he asked sharply.

"It's nothing, I'm alright," she said quickly.

He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. She gave him an astonished look.

"No, really, I mean it," she said. "I'm fine. I get these little pains, dizzy spells sometimes, but they're gone as soon as they come, and they don't really affect me."

He studied her intently, and at last seemed convinced she was telling the truth. "Do you think you can continue?" he asked.

She gulped nervously, glad she hadn't eaten breakfast. She didn't want to appear even weaker before the Goblin King, and nodded. He kept one of her hands in his, but dropped her other to face the same way as her. The way he held her hand reminded her of ancient monarchs, regally descending from their thrones. She cast a sidelong look at Jareth. Well, he most likely _was_ an ancient king. On the other hand, she never would be a queen, either in the Underground or Aboveground.

"Walk with me," he reminded her. She tensed, but with the feel of Jareth holding her hands, she didn't need to stare at him to remember who he was. She was free to look around as she walked, and this time the changes weren't so disorientating. It was actually rather fascinating, the way a single step seemed to cover only a foot, but she found they were twenty paces down from where they had been. A single stair apparently covered at least three flights of stairs.

She could almost _feel_ herself moving, as though there was a map inside her, and a little marker named _Sarah Williams_ was being shifted on the map. She reached for it, and timidly tried to move her own piece. She did not scoot it far, less than a quarter of the distance Jareth was jumping them. She the entire Castle seemed to take a deep breath around her, and she felt the overwhelming urge to take a step. She started to, only to be brought up short by Jareth's grip.

"No," he said sharply, "Don't play with that, you're not ready for it." In her head, her marker leapt back to their current position, the Castle released the breath it was holding, and she lost her sense of the map. She tried to reclaim it for a second, then shrugged and stopped. Jareth was the one teaching her magic. If he said she wasn't ready for it, she would wait.

They now stood at a small side door in the Castle wall. She could _feel_ the fresh air and sunshine on the other side of it. Except for her brief moment on the balcony, she had not seen anything like the outside since being rescued. She hadn't realized how much she missed it, how much she _craved_ it just now.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, eager to reach for the door and charge outside. It was worth every moment of discomfort to get here. Jareth looked down at her and grinned. His mismatched eyes sparkled with mischief. She smiled warily at him. He grabbed the doorknob and flung it open. She gasped as new, cool air blew back her hair. The sunlight was harshly brilliant after being used to the crystal lights—hardly brighter than torches—that lined the hallways of the Castle.

Instead of trying to fight it, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back to bask in the light and warmth. Jareth tugged her hand. She stepped forward and her shoes sank into something that felt wonderfully spongy, like grass. She was grinning without ever opening her eyes. Jareth chuckled.

"Are you even going to look?" he asked teasingly.

Her eyelids were bright red with the sun's light. It had stopped hurting. She tilted her head down and began blinking open her eyes. The first thing she saw was the deep, rich green of thick blades of grass. She gasped as the color flooded her eyes. So beautiful! She raised her head, still squinting a little against the light. It was a picture perfect day, bright blue sky, white fluffy clouds. Even the high, cream walls of the Labyrinth surrounding this open expanse of lawn added to the appeal of it.

Beside her, Jareth placed his free hand over his face, his shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth. She didn't see what was so funny, until she lowered her gaze, and finally made out the shapes on the lawn. There was a big, hulking form, a smaller, rather wrinkled form, and the smallest one of all, waving both a feather in his hat and a rather extravagant tail.

"_Oh!_" she gasped, tears starting to her eyes. Even more than sunlight, she had _needed_ this. She didn't remember pulling free from Jareth's hand, but suddenly she was running across the lawn, just as the three on the lawn were running toward her.


	19. Touched

Chapter 19: Touched

Jareth watched from the shadows, hidden but not forgotten. Sarah's mortal eyes couldn't possibly see him where he was, on a tall balcony overlooking the lawn, standing in the darkness cast by the Castle walls, but every now and then she would look in his direction with a puzzled look on her face. It was possible she didn't even know why she was looking up here. He knew why. She was feeling the instinctive connection between them, just as earlier she had begun to grasp the concept of reordering the Labyrinth around her.

He hated having to pull that ability from her grasp, but it was a tricky one to master. He would rather she practice that one when there wasn't a besieging army surrounding them. It was far too easily to end up somewhere unexpected, and he didn't know if he could survive too many unpleasant surprises where his Heart was concerned.

As it was, feeling her tears when she reunited with her friends had torn at him. He wanted to toss the cretins into the Bog for making her cry. But he knew, without Lilac telling him, that these were tears of restitution. She cried because she felt she had betrayed them, and then she cried again when they forgave her everything. Were any of her tears for him?

She was sitting on the lawn now, between Ludo and Hoggle. She was leaning on the rock-caller. His eyes sharpened on her. Was she too tired? She was still laughing though, encouraging Sir Didymus in one of his outlandish retellings. He would stay his return for a little longer.

He absently tapped his fingers on the railing, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of the rough stone on his bare skin. The slight breeze across the back of his palms made him shiver. Fae had incredibly acute senses. They saw in the dark and from far away. Their hearing was unparalleled, and Fae food tasted good because they couldn't stand anything less. He could track Sarah's scent through the passages she took through the Castle. And yes, their sense of touch was as keen as the rest of their senses.

For the Fae, a stroke along their skin wasn't just casual contact, but a rush against their nerve endings. Everything they felt, they felt deeply. Pain was strong, but pleasure was intense. Having Sarah touch his bare hands, her fingers delicately tracing the lines of his palm and the veins of his arms had been exquisite. It was all he could do to keep himself still, to not gather her in his arms, to press bare skin against skin. He could not imagine what finally making love to her would be like.

The hunger pulsed at him, and he fought it to not frighten her away. She had seen some of his struggle on his face, and had been frightened anyway. She thought she caused him pain! No, the only pain was because he was an impatient fool, as Lilac said. He _would_ treat Sarah better, he vowed. He would _show_ her his love without speaking it. When he proved himself worthy of her, maybe she would love him back. Only then could he ask her to be his Queen.

He scoffed bitterly. As if that would ever happen. His chest was sore from the great weight pulling at him. He didn't even know if he would have a chance to woo her after today. After her visit with her friends, he was going to offer her what she most wanted: to return Aboveground. He figured when she went, his life might as well be over. He would _exist_, but he would never have his Heart beside him. The Labyrinth and Jareth would be equally hollowed out, perhaps for all of time. Normally when the Heart of the Labyrinth died, the magic returned to the Goblin King. It was frail comfort when your consort was gone, but the magic still contained a hint of her essence, so that her love never fully left. The magic was cleansed when the Goblin King passed away, and the magic went on to the next in line.

But in all the Labyrinth's long history, there never had been a time when the Heart of the Labyrinth did not love the Goblin King and was separated from him. Never had one lived Aboveground for any length of time. Some _had_ been mortal, though it was a rare choice. Sarah was the rarest of all, his Heart who led a life away from the Labyrinth and the Instance.

Movement caught his eye below. The goblins that constantly followed the three companions had been temporarily banished to not overwhelm Sarah, but now they crept back slowly. Ludo's were the first, and the least frightening. She was started by the familiarity of the goblins with her friends. They climbed over Ludo like he was a mountain to scale, and the big rock-caller didn't mind in the least. She even laughed when one of the younger goblins—perhaps not fully imprinted on Ludo—curled up into her lap.

His chest clenched. How sweet she was, holding the young goblin. He imagined her taking care of the goblin infants, and knew there would be no better person to be the first to greet them. Hoggle and Sir Didymus's goblins were next. She appeared as friendly with them as she was with her friends. She smiled charmingly at Hoggle's goblins, but when a group of Sir Didymus's passed behind her, wearing their quasi-armor, she paled suddenly.

Her heart rate tripled in his chest. He lurched forward, was about to leap over the balcony to reach her, when her friends noticed her distress. She tried to laugh it off as nothing. His jaw clenched at her habit of doing that, as if she wasn't worth consideration, but much as he would have, her friends insisted on knowing what was wrong. She waved a vague hand behind her as spoke. He imagined she was telling them of her fear of things unseen. Sir Didymus immediately corralled his goblins into a ragged line, probably giving them orders as to their placement around her. Hoggle's goblins shifted as well, forming a subtle barrier around Sarah's vulnerable zone. Ludo gave Sarah a pat on the back that almost knocked her down.

_Gentle,_ he thought, but Sarah didn't appear to mind. Watching her interact with her friends and their goblins, Jareth realized he was looked at the newly minted Queen's Guard. Even when Sarah returned Aboveground, the creatures on the lawn would remain protective of her. He couldn't imagine more loyal guards than these.

Despite her joy at being reunited with her friends, he could see she was beginning to flag. If he wanted to talk to her about returning Aboveground before she was completely exhausted, he needed to go now. He used a crystal to transport himself around the corner of the Castle from where his Heart and the others were.

He strolled casually into sight. Sarah was the first to see him, as if she had been watching for him. Maybe she had. She looked at him, her face bright and shining with joy. His chest leapt to see her so happy. He wanted to pretend it was for him, just for a few seconds. But that was impossible, because as soon as she saw him, her expression blanched. Suddenly she was no longer smiling and laughing, but watching him tensely.

Her friends and the goblins saw her attention waver, and looked to see what had caused it. A dismal pall fell over the gathering. He resented it. He had every _right_ to approach his Heart and have a conversation with her. Hoggle was openly suspicious of him, and it showed in every goblin he'd raised. Sir Didymus was torn between loyalty to his liege and coming to Sarah's aid. Ludo mostly wanted everyone to get along, but even he could be roused to a protective fury. If they tried to protect Sarah from _Jareth_, he would throw them all into the far reaches of the Labyrinth.

However, other than becoming quiet and watching him solemnly, Sarah gave no outward indication of her discomfort, and so her friends did not leap into action. Inwardly, though, her heart raced next to his, and it felt heavy with dread. What was his Sarah dreading so much? He approached until he stood just beyond her shadow, still long in the early morning sun. He had come from this direction on purpose, to be sure the sun would be on his face and she could see his eyes. Sarah met his gaze, not with fear, but with trepidation certainly. No one made a move. The silence was thick and uncomfortable.

"I would have a word with Lady Sarah," he announced, phrasing his worlds deliberately. His tone brooked no argument, while addressing her as a Lady established her place at his Castle. He would have liked to call her _Queen_, but he doubted she would even hear him if he said it.

Hoggle bristled, but Sarah interrupted him firmly. "Please don't," she said. "Just go, it will be alright. I'm… I'm awfully glad to have seen everyone again."

Her words sent a shaft of pain through his chest. No doubt they were as purposeful as his. She too knew why he had come, and she had already made her choice to leave. Any hope he might have had to convince her to stay died. Despair filled him. What more could he have done to convince her…?

Reluctantly, Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus left, taking their goblins with them. Once Jareth was alone with Sarah, she asked, "It's time, isn't it? You're going to send me back now."

Anger began to replace his despair. He could have offered her _so much_, but she wouldn't give him a chance! Was this his fate, to always be spurned by the one he loved? He was sick of being a lapdog to her whims! Suddenly he couldn't wait to see the last of her. The sooner she was gone, the faster he could go back to ignoring her. She would never be forgotten, but maybe she could be reduced for a few unpleasant memories.

The feeling of her hands on his flashed through his mind, the simple delight of her touch. He gritted his teeth against it. Maybe not all memories were bad, but each of them was filled with pain. Had she already made her choice to leave when she took off his gloves? But no, it never had been a choice for her, was it? She was _never_ going to stay here with him!

"Yes," he said harshly, and she flinched. The Labyrinth shifted uneasily, and even the Instance flickered, sensing discord between its protectors. _I don't need comments from either of you,_ he snarled silently. He quieted the Labyrinth before Sarah noticed. It would be a while yet before she would be able to pick up anything from the Instance—a while that would never happen—but she was a lot closer connected to the Labyrinth.

He pulled in a crystal and sent it to hover in front of her. She eyed it warily, and looked back at him. "Picture where you want to go Aboveground," he said shortly. "Time has passed, so I will need to check that the location is safe for you." Damn him, he was still watching out for her, even when she wanted nothing to do with him. Did she ever acknowledge his level of care? Of course not. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he would no longer be able to sleep in his bed when she was gone. It would smell like her, and even when the scent faded, her memory would remain. He'd move to another part of the Castle, and seal his old rooms up.

She bowed her head, eyes screwed up, but no images formed in the crystal. He shifted impatiently. In their magic lessons, she had not quite gotten the hang of projecting images into the crystals, but he was using his own magic now. He should have been able to pick up her thoughts as soon as she decided where to do. Was it really that difficult to choose a place?

"Well?" he demanded.

She looked up at him, and he was stunned to see what he thought he wouldn't have to see again: her eyes were wet with tears. Even as he watched, a single tear escaped and trailed down her cheek. He stared at it hopelessly. It was like a kick to the chest. He wanted to reach out and cup her face. Without his gloves on, he would finally feel if her skin was as soft as it looked. He wanted to dry her tears with his thumbs, and then kiss her lips and tell her everything would be alright…

He shook himself back to the present. The image presented before him was too perfect. Was she trying to manipulate him? For what purpose? He pulled on his anger to shield himself from his emotions.

He scoffed. "Why the tears, Sarah? I'm only doing what you wanted all along. Choose a place before I grow impatient." Before he caved and moved to comfort her.

She hunched her shoulders, drawing in on herself. She looked so… vulnerable… lost… in that moment. No doubt Lilac would say he was being a beast again.

"What I want…" she trailed off slowly.

"Yes, what _do_ you want?" he asked in a hard voice.

"I want… if it is at all possible…" she seemed to break, and her words came out in a rush. "Please, Jareth, could I stay?"

He blinked at her, his hurt and anger shattering around him. This was… not what he expected. "You want to stay?" he asked through numb lips. How was he wrong about her? She was his Heart, shouldn't he know her better than that? Was that the reason she was crying, because she thought he was sending her from his side? Was it possible she felt a draw toward him, even if she didn't know what it was? Why was she asking him to stay? Surely she knew she belonged here? He had only thought to offer her a chance to return Aboveground, if she wanted. Except… he thought over his words. That was not what happened, was it? Sarah asked a question. He ignored the dread in her voice, feeling only his own pain, and lashed out at her. And now his Heart was crying at his feet, begging to stay with him.

She nodded, and her heart shifted in his chest, beating with a thread of hope. "Please let me stay," she begged. "I can work hard. You don't have to put me up in a guestroom, I can bunk with the goblins. I can go to work in the kitchen, washing dishes, or scrubbing floors, I promise you won't notice I'm there. I won't bother you at all, only please let me stay!"

"Sarah!" he interrupted her. She stared up at him, eyes wide and desperate, mouth curved in a pleading smile. She was adorable. He wanted to kiss those trembling lips. If he laid claim to her, would she finally believe her place was by his side?

"You can stay," he told her firmly. She let out a gasp of surprise and pleasure, her eyes filling with tears again. She starting to speak, but he held up his hand to stop her. "But you will not be a dishwasher, or any other servant here. We need to talk," he added.

He saw the doubt enter her face again. He didn't like standing over her, and so he sat, moving close enough to take her hand. She jumped, but didn't pull away from him. Her fingers were cold, and he chaffed them absently, trying to warm her.

He cleared his throat. "I haven't exactly been honest about your place here," he began slowly. She wanted to know her place. She wanted to know where she belonged, that she had a purpose. But how to tell her in such a way that she would understand? The last time he tried to tell her, it hadn't gone over well. He had spoken of his love, and she didn't hear him. He didn't want to see or feel that again. He struggled to find the right words.

"Six years ago," he said, watching her face for signs that the scar in her mind prevented her from hearing him, "When you beat the Labyrinth, you proved yourself worthy—" _of my love_, but he didn't say it out loud, "—of being one of the Labyrinth's protectors. It is an ancient and powerful title called the Heart of the Labyrinth. I chose you—" _to be my Heart_, "—to be that protector. Your magic comes from being the Heart of the Labyrinth. You are basically my co-ruler—" _my Queen_, "—and your duties are to help me protect the Labyrinth with your magic. You are _not_ a servant here, but you are one of the most important people regarding the safety of this land. Do you understand?"

Her eyes remained clear, but there was still some confusion. "So… I'm basically your Seneschal?"

Did she not hear him say she was his co-ruler? But maybe it was too much for her to take in right now. "Yes," he said simply. In time, as she grew more comfortable with her position, he would inform her again of her elevated status.

She tilted her head to the side, regarding him curiously. "Are you another Heart of the Labyrinth?"

He threw back his head and roared with laughter. Him, the Heart of the Labyrinth? He had never heard such a strange notion! If she was native to the Underground, she would have never thought of such a thing. But Sarah wasn't native, and she was looking irritated now. She jerked her hand from his grip. Still chuckling, he laid claim to her other hand. She scowled at him.

"No, there is only one Heart of the Labyrinth," he explained. "The Goblin King is known as the Trial of the Labyrinth. It's a different title, with different responsibilities than the Heart." He paused, trying to define what he had always known without question. "We're both protectors, but I'm the harsh one. I'm the one that tries to stop people from getting to the center of the Labyrinth, though there will always be a way for those willing to take a risk. The Trial is the one that controls the passages, and plants obstacles in the way. The Heart is more of a care-taker, a nurturer. I am… cruel. Together, we make sure the Labyrinth and its peoples are safe and well. Our most important duty is the protection of the Instance."

"The Instance…" she said softly, "You mentioned that before."

He nodded. "The Instance is… Hmm, to put in in mortal terms, in the Aboveground you have a theory of how your universe was created."

"I think there are several," she put in dryly.

He grinned. "Just so. But one I am referring to is the _big bang_ theory. Are you familiar with it?"

She shrugged. "There was an explosion at the beginning of the universe that created everything? Science wasn't really my strong point."

"That is all you really need to know about it," he reassured her. "In the Underground, our creation was much the same way, with one crucial difference. Instead of being a single moment of explosion, our _big bang_ came in an instant where everything happened at once—is _still_ happening, in fact."

She inhaled sharply as she began to understand.

"The Instance is the source of all life, all magic in the Underground, for here life and magic are closely intertwined. The Instance is deep underneath the Castle. It has the power to create worlds. It is _still_ creating our world now, and may do so for all of eternity for all we know. It also has the power to destroy—everything. _That_ is what the Labyrinth guards. _That_ is what we protect when we defend the Labyrinth. All of the Underground, all worlds that ever were, or ever may be, depend on us to keep the Instance safe."


	20. Explainations

**A/N: Yay, 20 chapters! Many thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed or faved this story. I haven't had much chance to write lately, so I'm not going to be able to post as often as I have been. Sorry! But I promise in the chapters I have written (up to 25) there is much fun. And a puppy!**

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><p>Chapter 20: Explanations<p>

Sarah trembled, her face pale. "I d-don't think I can do all that," she stammered. "Being a protector, or a care-taker. I can't even keep my plants alive! Are you sure you chose the right person for the job? Don't you want someone… better?"

Jareth felt a spurt of anger and panic. He was losing her. This was what came from partial explanations. She had an idea of what would be expected of her, but couldn't fathom how she would do her job. Because she couldn't understand that he loved her, she had no notion of how he would be there for her, teaching and guiding. Did she not think he would care for her? He gripped her hand tightly.

"There is something you must understand, Sarah," he said sternly. "You already _are_ the Heart of the Labyrinth. I chose you six years ago, and you have only grown stronger since. It's a lifetime position; there will never be another Heart of the Labyrinth until I die and my heir finds his Heart. You can go back to the Aboveground if you want, but you will never stop being the Heart."

She looked stricken. "But why me? I'm nothing."

He could no longer stand being apart from her. He reached out and pulled her into his lap. He could not speak words of love to her, to reassure her that she was far from _nothing_ to him, but he could show her. She sat stiffly against him. He waited to see if her panic would set in, but it didn't.

"Sarah," he sighed, resting his chin on the top of her head. "You are not _nothing_. You have never been _nothing_ to me." He could feel her drifting away as he strayed too close to declaring his love again. "You beat the Labyrinth. I don't think you realize how rare that is. In my time as the Goblin King, which is very long by your standards, only a dozen before you ever passed the Trial of the Labyrinth."

She looked up at him curiously. "I thought… you were the Trial of the Labyrinth?"

He paused. "I am. That is my title, as well as the Goblin King. But the Trial can also refer to the running the Labyrinth, being tested by it. The Trial was never meant to keep _all_ people out, only those who are unworthy."

"Only a dozen people have made it through the Labyrinth like me? So only twelve people got their children back?" She tried to pull away from him, disturbed by his explanation. He refused to let her go, not until she understood her importance.

"It is true that I will take children who are wished away," he admitted, ignoring her efforts to get free. She wasn't trying hard enough to really _mean_ it, so he didn't feel bad about holding her to him. So long as her panic didn't kick in, he would hold her forever.

"But I only take those that are _wished _away," he emphasized. "I don't steal children who are not entrusted to me by the _right words_. However, most people who run the Labyrinth don't do it for children. Anyone can enter the Labyrinth, at any time. If they make it to the center, they have proven themselves worthy, and the Instance grants them a boon, a wish if you will. Your boon was to have your brother back. Other people ask for a variety of things, though those with purely selfish reasons tend not to make it through. I asked for my uncle to be healed," he finished wistfully. Part of him still thought his uncle had made a poor trade, giving up his chance at health to make Jareth his heir.

Sarah twisted in his arms, no longer trying to pull away. "_You_ ran the Labyrinth?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded. "I mentioned it before," he said, then paused as he remembered the circumstances around his telling. It was possible she had been too exhausted to recall it, or the scar had blocked it from her.

She nodded slowly. "Yes, I remember now. It just seems so strange, to think of you running the Labyrinth."

He grinned. "I was very young back then," he teased, and then refused to elaborate. "That's something else you need to understand. The Goblin King must always be someone who has already passed the Labyrinth. And the same thing is true for the Heart of the Labyrinth. By passing the Trial, both the Goblin King and the Qu—the Heart, I mean, prove they will fulfill their sacred duty to protect the Labyrinth and the Instance. With only a dozen candidates, my options were somewhat limited." He neglected to mention he had _less_ than twelve potentials, as he would not have chosen a male to be his Heart.

"And you, my thirteenth victory," he mused, "That was an auspicious number, and I found your run to be… intriguing. You were brave and intelligent, determined to get your brother back at any cost." _And I fell in love with you because of it_. "After that, who else would I chose as my Heart?" He cursed his slip of the tongue, and paused as he wondered if she even heard him.

After a moment, she asked, "So when you call me your Heart, you mean that I am the one _you_ chose to be the Heart of the Labyrinth?"

_No_. "Yes." _Partly_.

Again there was a moment of silence. He could practically feel Sarah thinking it over. He prayed she stayed with him. He didn't mean to spring everything on her, but he had run out of time to bring it up slowly. Maybe if he had protected her better, she wouldn't have been injured by the trolls and need weeks to recovery. He could have been more gradual then, and when he said, _I love you_, she would have heard and believed him.

Sarah's body warmed and relaxed into him over the course of several minutes.

"Okay," she said softly. "I'm not going to pretend to that I know what I'm doing, or even that I can match your expectations, but since you've already chosen me as your Heart, I'll try to do the best I can."

His chest leapt with emotion, and it was all he could do to keep from tilting her back and snogging her silly. She had no idea how much being his Heart really meant to him, but getting her to admit that small bit felt like an important victory.

"You'll help me, won't you?" she asked nervously.

"Of course," he murmured into her ear. He did not _quite_ kiss her, but he allowed his lips to graze the top of her shoulder for a second. She shivered, her breath catching in her throat.

_My Heart, you have no idea what you do to me,_ he thought, and, _Now that you let me call you that, you will hear it very often. One day you_ will _understand._

A peaceful calm settled around them. Jareth realized he had never been able to hold his Heart so close for so long, at least while she was conscious. "Does this bother you?" he asked curiously.

"No, it doesn't," she answered in surprise. Her fingers delicately flexed in his, reminding him of their constant contact. That sweet caress stirred his hunger. He reveled in her proximity, even as it was torture to hold himself back.

"And if I were to let go?" he wondered out loud. He slowly raised his hands from hers, giving her time to protest or hold on to him. She didn't. She seemed to realize the importance of testing her limits as much as he. The moment he lost contact with her skin, she lurched forward.

"Jareth?" she bleated in worry.

He didn't try to restrain her. He held himself painfully still, waiting to see if she could conquer this fear on her own. She was shivering again, but with a monumental effort, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"No," she spoke slowly, as if trying every word to make sure it fit. "I think it's still you. Your scent is there." She leaned back against him, turning her face to inhale against his shoulder. His muscles tightened with sudden tension. She tilted her face back, opened her eyes, and smiled at him. This time he did not ask for permission. He fisted a hand in her hair, held her in place as his lips descended on hers.

This was no chaste, simple kiss, but an outpouring of passion… on his side at least. His lips moved over hers hungrily, but she remained still and unresponsive. With a growl of frustration he forced his tongue past her lips, stroking hers, running along her lips, trying to provoke _any_ reaction from her. Nothing. He might as well be practicing on his own hand for all the feedback she gave him. He ended the kiss abruptly, swiping his hand across his mouth. His lungs heaved for breath, but Sarah was unaffected.

"Jareth?" she asked in confusion. "Did I do something wrong?" Her eyes had that familiar glazed look that said she knew nothing of what he'd done.

_Nothing. Everything._ He was disgusted with himself for forcing her. She wasn't ready. At the moment, she couldn't even realize that he _wanted_ her. And that wanting was a very dangerous thing too. If she had given in to his passions, he couldn't have said if he would have stopped. Would he have surrendered to his craving for her, only to see her terror afterward and feel nothing but indifference toward her?

"No, precious," he murmured. His arms shook as he held her. He _needed_ her still, despite his desire to keep her safe and well. He was a cursed man. Abruptly he needed to move, to create a little distance between them. He took her hand, the touch of their bare skin joining soothing to her and arousing to him. He shifted her off his lap and stood. She remained on the ground.

"Can you stand?" he asked, remembering her kneeling on the balcony.

"Yes?" she replied uncertainly. "Or I could, but my legs are shaking."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why are your legs shaking?"

"I don't know," she admitted. So it seemed some part of her was affected by him, even if she didn't know why. She climbed to her feet a few seconds later. He started to lead her back to the Castle while she still had energy to make it, but she tugged at his hand.

"Please," she said when he looked at her, "It's such a nice day, and I haven't been outside for so long, can we stay out here for a little while?"

_Of course, my Queen,_ he thought. "As my Heart wishes," he said with a private smile. They walked for a time across the green lawn. Sarah seemed content with the plain surroundings, but he wished he could bring her to one of the many gardens. Perhaps she would fancy a quick trip to the Labyrinth proper? He glanced down at her, and realized it was not to be. She tried to hide it, but she was leaning heavier on his hand, using his strength to support her. He stopped and faced her.

"Sarah," he began with an impish grin, "Do you trust me?"

She gave him a wary look, but her lips turned upwards. "Yes."

He dropped a crystal. They appeared in his bedroom. Sarah staggered into his arms. Teleportation by magic was disorientating for those not used it, which was why he chose to walk her to the lawn instead of teleporting earlier. He held onto her, waiting for her Labyrinth-sense to kick in and tell her where they were. He was never lost in the Labyrinth, because it was always aware of him. The same was true of his Heart, even if she didn't know how to connect to the Labyrinth yet. It took longer than he expected, and even then he could tell she was still somewhat confused.

His gaze fell on the bed. He remembered the kiss from earlier with a surge of heat. Sarah gripped his hands tightly, and the feel of her skin on his made him think of sultry nights under the covers. He shook his head sharply to clear it. He needed to control himself. Sarah was wavering, so he led her to the settee and sat her down. Of course, she was now on _his_ sleeping area, which distracted him again.

Her stomach rumbled, and Jareth belatedly realized she had not eaten yet. He sent a crystal to the kitchen for an early lunch, and sat next to her. He reached out and took her hand again. Now they had established this contact, he was not about to let her forget it. She tried to tug free.

"Jareth," she protested with a frown. He gave her an almost-innocent look.

"Is there something you need?" he asked lightly.

She paused, then sighed. "No." She stopped trying to pull away from him. Oddly enough, he found himself wishing she would have asked for something just so he could provide it to her.

"So what are some of the duties of being the Heart?" she asked, settling back in her seat.

So eager she was to begin! _Fear me, love me, do as I say,_ he thought, but out loud he said, "You visit the people of the Labyrinth, and see to their needs. You bring to me any concerns they might have." That would serve as a basic overview for now. He could go into more detail, like moving homes around, when she had a grasp of the magic involved.

"Okay, I can do that," she mused to herself. Something in her tone of voice stirred his protective instincts.

"You will go nowhere outside this Castle without me or a guard of my choosing," he said sternly.

Her head jerked back in surprise. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. He had the sudden urge to kiss it. She did not like feeling that her freedom was limited, but tried to be reasonable. "Because the trolls might try to get me back?" she asked, paling at the thought.

He could have agreed with her, but he was not cruel enough to make her think that was his only reason. "Because you are my Heart," he answered smoothly.

She gave him a confused look.

"You are my Heart," he repeated, and took a risk. "_Mine_. You are my responsibility, mine to protect." _And to hold, and love_.

Her confusion only deepened. "I thought… the Heart works for you?"

Blast the damn trolls for making this so difficult. Without the scar in her mind, he could have just told her he loved her, and that would answer a great deal of her questions. She might not love him back, but even mortals could understand how love was a great motivator. "It goes both ways," he explained. "The relationship between the Trial and the Heart… is not meant to be unequal. You do not work _under_ me, but with me. You will help me in caring for the Labyrinth, but you have just as much right to call on me for aid and protection. And I _will_ protect you, Sarah, whether you ask me for it or not. I will not compromise on this."

She huffed out a breath of frustration. "This is very confusing. That's not at all how a Seneschal works." She was frowning as she tried to figure it out. On her, it was an adorable expression. He resisted the urge to chuckle at her.

"You were the one that first brought that up," he pointed out. "I told you before that we are to be co-rulers." He knew instinctively she would not hear the word _Queen_ if it passed his lips, but just maybe if she discovered it on her own… But she remained lost. He could almost feel the way her thoughts ran. In her mind, he was the Goblin King. The only person who could have an equal rank and power to him was the Queen, but that was where she was blocked. The relationship between a King and Queen was one of matrimony and love, something she could not comprehend of Jareth at the moment.

She sank against the settee, her sigh of vexation turning into a yawn. This time he did chuckle. "I think you are tired, my Heart," he said, drawing her to his side. He stretched out his long legs on the cushions, shifting her so she half-reclined against him. She murmured a protest, but it was weak. He held her in place until she relaxed on top of him. One hand held both of hers on her stomach, but he pressed the other to her forehead. He shivered slightly at the allure of her touch. Of course she felt it.

"Are you cold?" she asked, her voice slurring a little with tiredness.

"No, love, not while I'm with you," he replied in her ear. Concerned for her, though, he used his magic to pull the comforter from the bed and drape it over them.

"What?" she asked a little louder, and he inwardly cursed his lack of caution. The endearment slipped too easily from his lips.

"Nothing, my Heart," he soothed, his fingers lightly stroking her temples. She turned her head and snuggled against him.

"Feels good…" she yawned again.

"Rest now," he whispered, "I will be here when you wake." When she was half-asleep like this, her guard was down. She was not thinking so hard, and so she was a little more willing to accept his caresses. He rained down silent kisses on her hair as her body melted warmly against his. When the lunch tray came a few minutes later, it went untouched by either of them.


	21. Duties

Chapter 21: Duties

"I should have told her she was my Heart a long time ago," Jareth mused aloud, watching Sarah visit with injured soldiers.

"Yes, you should have," Lilac agreed blithely. The infirmary was her domain, so of course she was present. It had been three days since Sarah had begged to stay, and the changes in her were startling. She still tired easily, and had moments of fear she had to deal with, but it was as if she had recovered more in the past three days than in all her weeks previous. A lot of the _timid-ness_ about her that bothered Jareth had fallen away. She regained a confidence that had been missing from her since the moment she first called out to him.

A cynical part of him was waiting for her old teenager personality to emerge, but instead her courage was tempered by a tolerance that was new. It was as if she had been holding her breath since she arrived, not knowing where she stood, and only now exhaled. She took her duties as his Heart very seriously. She persisted in her wrongful idea that the Heart somehow served him, rather than them being on equal footings. _That_ annoyed him, but then it also gave him opportunities to prove her wrong.

Since she finally accepted her position as his Heart, she had thrown herself into what she perceived as her responsibilities. She had kept herself very busy indeed. He made sure she was aware that she had free reign to visit with her friends. He had also taken Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus aside and given them a very serious—and deliberately frightening—discussion of what he expected from them as the Queen's Guard. Strangely, it was Sir Didymus who struggled the most with his role.

"I shall of course defend Lady Sarah until the last breath leaves my body, but I must question my appointment to the Queen's Guard, for she is not the queen," the knight pointed out.

Jareth clenched his fists and turned slowly on the fox-kin. Hoggle winced and edged away from Sir Didymus.

"No," Jareth agreed in a dangerous voice, "But she is my Heart, and entitled to all the rights and privileges thereof." It was odd that Sir Didymus should be the one to protest that Sarah was receiving the honor of the Queen's Guard escort. Jareth had thought the knight would have the least problem accepting the mortal as his Queen. What was going on in his mind, that he thought Sarah was not worthy of being Queen?

Sir Didymus was clearly puzzled. "Then have you asked her to be your Queen?"

Jareth's eyes flashed with anger, even as he felt a chill run down his spine. Of course he had not asked her. He _could_ not ask her, because if he did he would only be met with a blank, uncomprehending stare. It tore at him that he might not _ever_ be able to ask his Heart to marry him. "I have not," he said flatly, making it a subject he would not broach again.

Sir Didymus gaped at him. "Then you would… would cohabitate with her outside of the holy bonds of wedlock? Prey on her maiden's innocence without providing the comfort and protection of matrimony?"

The tension slowly drained from Jareth's shoulders as he realized what Sir Didymus was protesting. Some of the hurt anger left him. The noble fox-kin had a chivalrous heart, and could not countenance how a man and woman might live together without being married. Indeed, Jareth only tolerated the situation as it was because in his soul they were already married in everything but body and name. Sarah's innocence already belonged to him, but he would not be taking advantage of it as Sir Didymus feared.

"I have not _yet_ asked Sarah to marry me," he established, a smirk hovering over his lips.

Sir Didymus' face brightened. "Then you seek to woo the maiden who would be your Queen!" he exclaimed, nearly falling off of Ambrosius in excitement. "To court a fair maiden's heart and win her love is the most noble pursuit of all! I have every hope for your success, sire!"

Jareth was vaguely amused by the fox-kin's gushing. It would give the little creature no greater pleasure than to see Sarah and his king united, and there were no further protests from that direction. He cast a stern eye on Hoggle and Ludo, but neither of them had anything to add. Ludo simply wanted everyone to be happy, and Hoggle was the most astute when it came to realizing Jareth's purpose behind the Queen's Guard. The dwarf might not like him, but they had a common goal when it came to protecting Sarah.

Sarah spent a lot of time with her friends, but it was not merely to chat and laugh with him. From Hoggle she learned gardening. Ludo taught her to build, and she even began to drill with Sir Didymus. Nor were her three friends the only people she took lessons from. She seemed determined to learn _everything_ about his kingdom. He was heartened by her enthusiasm, but he wondered why she insisted on learning to sew from Zinnia. He supposed there potentially _could_ be a purpose behind learning to cook from the goblins—Fae courting often involving food—but what could she possibly learn at the stables?

It wasn't like she went there to choose a mount and learn to take care of it. No, she waited until the horses were turned out into the pasture, and then began mucking stalls with the stable boys. It bothered him greatly that she would lower herself so. He chose to ignore the fact that his uncle had made him muck stall for three years before he was even allowed to ride an old nag. Sarah did not need to learn patience and humility as he had as a young man. Jareth had not been royalty back then; he was only a resentful Fae youth, abandoned by his family and left to the not-so-tender mercies of the Goblin King. However his Heart had already proven herself by beating his Labyrinth, so why was she working so hard?

Sarah even came to Lilac to learn about Underground medicine and healing. Jareth was slightly mollified by that. As the Heart of the Labyrinth, healing and mending were magics that would come naturally to her, and things that could only benefit her reign. Even still, he was irked as she sat by the cots of wounded soldiers, and showed them more care than she had shown him.

"Why is she pushing herself so much?" he asked, watching from Lilac's office. No one besides the physician knew he was here. A visit to his troops would be good for moral, but he was too distracted by his Heart.

"She is growing into her role," Lilac replied.

"Her role is _not_ to muck stables and mend socks," he growled.

"You should let her be."

"Let her be?" His voice rose, and he struggled to control it. "She is exhausted every night. There are blisters on her hands, and bruises on her skin. How can you tell me to let her be? She cannot continue like this."

"Will she thank you for stopping her? For keeping her from her duties? It is only hard for her while she is still learning."

"She is still recovering from the trolls! Why would she force herself to do more than she is able?"

"She is establishing herself among your people. When it comes time for her to take her proper place as Queen by your side, everyone will remember the woman who took the time to visit and learn from them. I would have thought you would be pleased by her actions. If you do not like the time she is spending to familiarize herself with your kingdom, I hope you do not tell her. It would be a hard blow for her to absorb."

He fell silent. Lilac's words forced him to look at Sarah in a new light. In his mind, Sarah was his Heart, and already established in his seat of power. But to the rest of his kingdom, she was only a mortal girl who had beaten the Labyrinth. Very few knew he had chosen her as his Heart. When she rejected him the first time, the pain had been so great, he banished all thought and mention of her. He did not speak of the change that came over him since her run. Only his closest friends—which was a scarce number—suspected what ailed him.

When she came back, he had not meant to keep her presence a secret, but he had also not announced her as she deserved, so she could receive acknowledgement as his Heart. The first weeks had been tense as he tried to understand what had happened to her, and her safety had been upmost in his mind. Now that she was stronger and venturing out, she was still largely an unknown factor. Rumor would spread quickly that she was his Heart, but in the meanwhile, his people still did not know what to make of her.

Lilac was right that establishing Sarah to the peoples of the Labyrinth was important. He would only hurt Sarah if he tried to curtail her activities. And… she was the kindness to his cruelty. When someone was too frightened to approach him—his temper was well known—they could come to Sarah. _She_ had a right to stand up to him, even oppose him, that others did not have. As his equal, she need not fear his retaliation, and because he loved her, harsh words were softened when coming from her.

Sarah needed this, and his people needed her. They needed to gain confidence in his Heart so that they _would_ approach her for their needs. He liked to think he was a fair ruler, but he was also charged with protecting the Labyrinth and the Instance. He could not always be tending his people when he was fighting to keep them safe. Sarah, however, _would_ be tending to them.

If he was being honest with himself, he was perhaps a little jealous of the time Sarah spent with others now. Her sole attention was no longer focused on him. She spread her energy among others, and part of him feared there was less of her for him. In the normal course of things, when the Goblin King chose his Heart, they would have a short but intense time of courtship, in which he brought his Heart to the various people of the Labyrinth to introduce her. After a very few weeks of this, they would be married, and in times of peace would have a honeymoon in mild seclusion. That time would establish their bond with each other, before they had to face the world. Their trust and confidence in each other would be complete, and they would have a good understanding of their abilities together and separately.

Having a mortal Heart was slightly different, as they needed to learn to master magic as well, but it was the same concept. With Sarah, everything was backwards. He had not, until now, been able to court her. Now that he could, he must take it very slow so that he didn't frighten her away, or trigger the scar in her mind. It seemed to him that the soldiers in the infirmary had a greater claim on her than he did.

He growled in frustration. It was true that the Labyrinth needed Sarah, but _his_ need for her was separate and just as strong.

"My lord, what are you—" Lilac began, but he'd already kicked open the door of her office and was striding toward Sarah. His body was aware of her, and not just on a sexual level. His arms ached to hold her. He longed to share his warmth with her if she was cold. He wanted to sooth her hurts, needed to be the one she turned to for comfort. Sarah faltered when she saw him. He met her eyes boldly, letting her see his mixed color gaze.

She smiled timidly at him. Until now, he had been respecting her independence. The Fae that tortured her could not have chosen a better form than Jareth's to do the most damage. Because of her wariness of his appearance, Jareth had allowed her to explore her new charges without him present. He still watched her, from the shadows or through his crystals, but so far she had not needed his interference. She did not venture beyond the Castle grounds, so he wasn't even required to protect her. It irked him that his Heart was determined to throw herself into her responsibilities, while denying him the opportunity to carry out his duty toward her.

That was going to change, and it started here. He usually avoided Sarah while she was _working_, because her need to focus on him prevented her from attending to anything else. However, since discovering how well skin contact worked to ground her, there was less chance of him triggering a panic attack so long as he was touching her. He approached now.

"Hello, precious," he called out to her. "I found myself missing your presence, and couldn't think unless I came to see you." He didn't mean to be so honest, but the words poured out of him before he thought. Once they were said, he didn't regret them. He felt a ripple of awareness spread through the infirmary. It was a hiss of gossip that traveled faster than thought: _the Goblin King is here_.

"Jareth," Sarah acknowledged him cautiously. She had asked precisely once if she should use his title while they were in public. His unequivocal answer laid that question to rest. Very few people were close enough to him to use his name, let alone address him as such in front of others. Sarah was at the very top of that list, and he didn't care who knew it. Her use of his name put a claim on him that he had allowed no other female. It was a statement of who he belonged to.

"How are you?" he asked, reaching her. He took her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it.

"I'm doing well, thank you," she said politely, her cheeks growing pink. "I hope I didn't distract you from anything important."

"_Nothing_ is more important than spending time with my Heart," he emphasized, speaking loud enough to be overheard. Another ripple passed through the building. _The King is here with his Heart. He has chosen his Heart at last._ This was not the proud homecoming he wanted to give Sarah, but perhaps it was better this way. By nightfall, the entire Labyrinth would know who exactly Sarah was.

She was taken aback by his statement, and somewhat flustered. "Oh, well, I was just, uh, visiting your soldiers here," she stammered.

"Our soldiers," he corrected. She was cute when she didn't know what to say, and he didn't resist his next urge. He perched on the arm of her chair, deliberately claiming her space. He leaned down and placed another sweet kiss to her temple. She was not expecting it, but she didn't pull away. Her breath ghosted shakily over his throat, causing a surge of desire and tenderness to well up inside him. Even though they were in full view of everyone, he permitted himself to indulge in all the soft warmth she inspired. A third ripple spread outward, this one the most profound of all. _The King loves his Heart._ It was the best possible protection he could have given her.

She laughed lightly, shifting away from him. He allowed the separation, because she did not try to rise from the chair. He was still leaning over her, keeping her hand in his. She gave the soldier on the bed an embarrassed look. The dwarf watched them with wide-eyed amazement, as if shocked to be the one to witness such behavior. Thinking about it, Jareth realized this _was_ the first time he had appeared with Sarah in public. It was just as well he had established her identity now. The truth of their relationship would remain hidden except to those who already knew, but now the whole Labyrinth would be waiting for them to marry.

Interestingly, the scar in her mind did not block his actions. He reached out and fiddled with a strand of her hair, laying claim to another part of her. She sent him a covert look, but otherwise did not protest. He let his love and need for her show in his eyes. She gasped uncertainly, and looked away quickly. So it appeared that light flirting was acceptable. On the other hand, if he took her in his arms and sang to her as he had six years ago, he doubted she would hear a single word.

He glanced at the dwarf, and asked the Labyrinth for his name. "We are grateful for your service, Grevven," he said, resting his hand on Sarah's shoulder as he used the royal pronoun. Grevven jerked in his cot, and hastily stuttered his thanks. Jareth barely kept himself from frowning. Was he such a formidable presence that his subjects were reduced to incoherence around him? He had better things to do than to stand over dwarves who could not form sentences whenever Jareth looked at him. In the next moment, Sarah shifted in her chair. Her cheek accidentally brushed his thigh. She froze for a few seconds, while he held his breath. She tilted her head, deliberately resting against him this time. Suddenly he felt no desire to leave.

Whenever it was possible, Jareth began to show up wherever Sarah was working. He did not stay long, and he was careful to avoid any hint of hovering. He made it clear his visits were because he desired her company, and not because he doubted her ability. As much as he wanted to defend her from all comers, he recognized Lilac's wisdom that this was something Sarah had to do on her own. Still it did not hurt for them to be seen together, and Jareth subtly pushed for more affection. She rarely returned anything more than a smile and a squeeze of his hand. She was also not afraid to tell him to back off if he went too far.

He longed to focus solely on her seduction—for this was a long form of seduction, make no mistake—but he found that the more casual his actions, the more freedom he had. He could not wine and dine her, but he could tease frustrate her in equal measures. The blank look in her eyes warned him when he had slipped too far in his romancing, but usually it only too an outrageous comment or two to bring her back.

She was not _quite_ secure enough in her position to tease him back. He wished she was. There was sometimes this _look_ in her gaze as he drawled something particularly arrogant that told him he was one the right track. One day, she would snap at him, and then he would probably kiss her because he had waited so long for it.

Of course, the best part of his visits was being able to spend time with his Heart. He could touch her, talk to her, involve himself in her little projects without taking over. The way she welcomed him, the way her eyes began to light up when she saw him, more than assuaged the hurt he'd felt when she started to spend her time away from him. He could deny her nothing. She might not know why he indulged her, but it was clear she appreciated his interest in her doings.


	22. Sideways

**A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! We're up to 50 reviews, 22 faves, 41 follows, and over 6k views! My very great thanks for everyone on that list! I appreciate you taking the time to read my story. I hope everyone has a wonderful Christmas season, and a Happy New Year!**

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><p>Chapter 22: Sideways<p>

About a week after he began visiting her, he went looking for Sarah, only to find her in his room instead of at one of her self-appointed tasks. She still had not questioned who these rooms belonged to. He'd realized it was part of the scar. If she realized that these were _his_ rooms, she would have to ask herself why he had put her here instead of in another room. The answer, that he loved her, wanted to be with her, would escape her grasp. And so she did not ask or wonder about the rooms. Perhaps she thought they were guest rooms, though they had a personal touch that was lacking in rooms intended for others to sleep.

He appeared in the room, alarmed that she was here instead of at her usual chores. Had she had another panic? She was sitting on a deep window seat, her legs pulled up as she stared out the window. She didn't realize he was here, and he took a moment to watch her. There was something… sad about her posture. Was she ill? Did one of his subjects say something that hurt her?

"Sarah?" he called.

She jumped in surprise, then relaxed when she recognized him. For once she was not glad to see him. A look came over her face, one of sadness and almost… dread. He thought she'd gotten over her dread of him already. He approached, and took her hand. As soon as he touched her, she looked away. Her fingers remained limp in his. He sat on the window seat next to her, practically on her feet. She curled up tighter to move away from him. He kept his back to the warm glass as he studied her. She was deliberately avoiding his gaze.

"Is something bothering you, precious?" he asked.

She shrugged. He gritted his teeth against her non-answer. She really needed to work on her communication skills, instead of shutting him out when there was a problem. It frustrated him to no end that she wanted to be his Heart… and still have nothing to do with him.

"Sarah," he warned, squeezing her hand almost to the point of pain. She wouldn't look at him, pressing her cheek to her knees. Sighing, he reached out and took her chin in his fingers, turning her to face him. "You know I'm here for you," he said roughly. "Part of being _my_ Heart is that I'm here for you as much as you're here for me."

Her eyes filled with tears. He eased his grip, thinking he had hurt her somehow. "What is it?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she said thickly, rubbing at her eyes.

"Hey," he raised her face again, "Talk to me. Did that overgrown rock-caller say something to you? I'll throw him in the Bog and use him as target practice for the goblins."

Both knew the chances of Ludo actually saying something hurtful were practically non-existent. A spark of irritation entered her eyes, better than the bleakness that was there before.

"Leave him alone," she protested feebly. She was still growing into her role as the one who could gainsay him. He leaned in toward her.

"Then tell me what is wrong, and I won't have to keep guessing," he pointed out. He was frantic to find out what was affecting his Heart like this. He thought he was doing well to keep himself in check, but he wasn't sure how much longer his patience would last. He would tear through the Castle until he found the one responsible, and—

"It's nothing, really," she sighed, her breath catching on a sob. "I was wondering… do you know what date it is Aboveground?"

He blinked in surprise, pulling back from his thoughts of mayhem. Date? Was there some important anniversary he was missing? It wasn't her birthday, or the anniversary of her running the Labyrinth, both were in different seasons. He conjured a crystal and peered into the mortal world. He told her the date. Her face crumpled, and she closed her eyes. Only the fact that she tightened her grip on his hand kept him from going wild with the need to protect her. She did need him, whether she acknowledged it or not.

"Tell me, Sarah," he pointed out. "I have been patient so far, but I will go through every one of Hedgemeat's goblins if I have to, to get you to speak with me." It was a hollow threat, and they both knew it. She didn't even correct him on the use of Hoggle's name. Her pain did not originate within the Labyrinth.

"It's just that…" she said slowly, as if the words had to be torn from her, "It's the day after Toby's birthday."

He froze, thinking of the towheaded child he'd hosted for a time. So this was what was bothering her. She missed her family. Was she regretting her choice to stay with him?

"I thought it was coming up soon," she shrugged like it didn't matter, but he could feel the ache in her chest. "It's only that… I've never missed his birthday before."

He cleared his throat. "Would you like to see them?" It terrified him that she might want to go back to her family, but her happiness outweighed his own.

She gave him a startled look. "You can do that?" she asked hesitantly. In answer he held up another crystal, his mind already bent on her family. She inhaled sharply, but didn't look into the crystal. She trembled as if terrified.

"I don't… want to be alone," she admitted.

"Sarah," he sighed, raising her hand to kiss it. She had a death-grip on his fingers, which was just fine by him. "You are never alone. You are my Heart. That means I am always with you."

She swallowed, and nodded jerkily. He offered her the crystal. She didn't take it, but she looked into it at last. A fair-headed boy played tag with other children his age. Party streamers were strung around a porch. An adult couple watched from the sidelines, the man playing referee and the woman surreptitiously preparing candles on a cake. Sarah's breath caught in her throat. Jareth banished the crystal as she began to cry quietly.

She hid her face on her knees as she tried to contain her pain. Anger thrummed through him as he felt her conflicting emotions. Part of her was glad to see her family well, but another part wished there had been some sign that they were missing her. Their daughter and sister disappeared months ago, and they showed no concern at all?

"They looked, happy, didn't they?" Sarah asked in a tiny voice. In contrast to her mixture of guilt and grief, what he felt was very simple. He reached out and raised her face from her knees. He was done with allowing her to hide her hurt from him.

"They did," he agreed lightly. She flinched. His eyes flashed, but he reigned in his reaction so she wouldn't think he was mad at her.

"Know this, Sarah," he intoned fervently. He stared into her eyes, seeking every contact with her. Her thoughts were confused and uncertain. "If you disappeared from _my_ life, I would look for you every day. I would never stop looking, until I found you." He threw all caution to the wind. "Do you know why?"

She nodded, looking away from him. "Because I'm your Heart," she mumbled. "You need me for the Labyrinth."

Was that what she thought? No wonder calling her his Heart did not provide the reassurance he had hoped. "No," he said firmly. "You are more than the Heart of the Labyrinth to me. You are…" he sighed. "Sarah Williams." He rose and stood in front of her. He took her hands and intertwined their fingers. He rested his forehead on hers. "_I_ need you," he revealed himself to her. "I care for you. Not as the Goblin King, but as Jareth. _That_ is why I would look for you every day."

Surely he had pushed too far this time. If he looked at her, her face would be blank and uncomprehending. So he didn't look. He kept his eyes shut, breathing in her scent, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. Was this as close as he could come to saying he loved her? Sarah's heartbeat sped a little. It wasn't from fear or worry. He pulled back to see her face. He expected the confusion, but she was also… startled. She didn't have the vacant stare like when the scar stole his words.

Her eyes were clear as she searched his expression. "You mean that," she breathed softly, like it was a revelation.

He scarcely dared to dream. Was this a break-through? He nodded with a wry smirk. "Every word," he confirmed.

For some reason this made her cheeks blush with color. "Thank you," she whispered, looked away shyly. It did not bother him so much this time.

"Sarah-mine," he breathed, and began pressing light kisses to her face. "You are precious to me."

She didn't respond to him, and while she didn't shy from his kisses, she didn't lean into him either. He stopped, struggling to control his reaction to her. This was the most hope he'd felt in weeks, and he didn't want to push his luck.

"Now," he said briskly, "Don't you usually have practice with Sir Didymus at this time?"

He escorted her to the practice yard. She kept a little more space between them than usual. He held her hand, and responded by tugging her off balance at an opportune moment so that she stumbled into his arms. She gave him a startled look, which he answered with a smug smile. She righted herself, and her expression turned confused, as if he was a puzzle she couldn't fathom. He raised an eyebrow at her. She blushed and turned away.

She knelt to greet Ambrosius, and watching her enthusiastic welcome for the dog gave him an idea. He used a crystal to summon a messenger goblin with paper and quill, and penned a note to one of his contacts in the Labyrinth. The next day, he received a reply to his letter. The response made him grin with mischief. It required an article of Sarah's clothing, and he knew just the one. The next time she was out of her room—which was practically all-day now—he snuck into her wardrobe. He had no compunctions about stealing the mourning dress, even though he knew it would be destroyed by the use it would be put to.

For several days, Sarah acted oddly around Jareth. She frequently blushed when she saw him. He had been used to a certain amount of contact between them. He had gone over eight hundred years without seeking another's touch. Even when he was pursuing one of his ex-lovers, touch had only been a means to an end, a physical release without intimacy behind it. He had never allowed anyone else to remove his gloves. With Sarah, the merest brush of their skin made him want to draw closer to her.

They had gotten into the habit of holding hands. He made it a point to kiss her skin or face in greeting. He had never experienced this level of affection for another before. Every time he touched his Heart in public, rumors grew of how he loved her, how he was more open with her than anyone else. And yet that wasn't the reason he was constantly touching her. It was because he wanted her, and wanted to make sure she knew she was desired. More often than not she was startled or confused by his subtle advances.

Following the break-through, Sarah had a harder time accepting his touch. She seemed _uncomfortable_ by it, for whatever reason he couldn't understand. He was certain she now had an idea of what he felt for her. She might not realize that his feelings ran to deep and everlasting love, but she knew he cared for her. So why was she more reluctant to touch him now? She never initiated contact between them, was almost _embarrassed_ when he touched her, and sought to end their connection as soon as possible.

At least she didn't jerk away from him in fear or disgust. He didn't know what he might have done if she did that. He was already struggling to understand her new behavior as it was. At night doubts plague him, and he wondered if she not only didn't love him, but also had rejected all thought of loving him. He could accept that her feelings were not equal to his, so long as he had the chance to court her, to persuade her to change her mind about him. But if she was completely closed to the possibility of loving him, he was beating himself against a wall with no hope of getting through.

He shared his observation of the break-through with Lilac, though he kept his fears to himself. He had enough pride to keep some things to himself. Lilac, however, was perceptive enough to hear what he didn't say.

"I'm not sure if it was a step forward so much as a step sideways," she said of Sarah's reaction. "It might not be what you want now, but as the way you wanted to go before was blocked, this could be your opportunity to press forward."

He did not answer. It was a pleasant change that for once Lilac was not telling him to have patience and give Sarah more space, but he didn't need her approval. In his mind, he was already plotting ways to circumvent his Heart's new independent streak. He would never put her in harm's way, but he delighted in situations where she had no choice but to call on him for help.

The first time, it happened quite by mistake. The northeastern quarter of the Labyrinth had been experiencing some heavy rains, which caused the Undine Lake to overflow its banks. Neither the Undines nor the little Flora creatures that lived around the Lake were happy about this, and he was surveying the damage and communicating with the Labyrinth to find a solution. He crouched on the soggy soil, his hand pressed to the mud to make it easier to reach his land.

He had successfully moved the Floras so they were not in danger of drowning, but he still had to figure out how to drain the excess water, and remove the debris that had flowed into the Lake. He _could_ open a passage to the Under-Labyrinth and allow the lower chambers to flood, but the complex twists of the Under-Labyrinth had just as many living creatures as the surface. He was debating the merits of calling up some lava elementals to burn off the excess water, when his chest suddenly lurched.

Within his ribs, Sarah's heart raced with fear and alarm. He kept a closer eye on her since the panic when she'd blocked off the hallway. He didn't waste breath to excuse himself, just used a crystal to transport to Sarah's side. He was expecting another panic attack, or perhaps she'd gotten hurt trying to do too much, or lost when she ventured too far. Instead, he appeared in the library… and Sarah was clinging finger and toes to a bookshelf a dozen feet off the ground.

He knew at once what happened, and had to suppress a snigger. The shelves in the library were incredibly tall, more than four stories in height. There were rolling ladders on each shelf to enable readers to reach the books. Jareth rarely bothered with the ladders, since he could call the books and return them by magic, but Sarah had not mastered that skill yet. To avoid cluttering the aisles, the ladders were enchanted to return to the end of the shelf when no one was on them.

Undoubtedly, Sarah had seen a book just out of her reach, and instead of climbing down to move the ladder, she climbed onto the shelf itself to get her book. The moment she wasn't touching the ladder, it rolled itself back to the beginning, stranding her far too high for comfort. The shelf spacing was too great to allow her to get down without the ladder, and the shelves themselves were so crowded with books she only had a bare hold on the edge of the boards.

He cleared his throat to announce his presence. Sarah jerked, and lost her grip on the shelves. "Jareth!" she screamed as she began to fall. He lunged forward in a blind panic. Even with all the magic of the Labyrinth behind him, he almost didn't make it in time. Sarah crashed hard into his arms. He tried to soften the blow, but suspected she would have bruises. The wind was knocked out of her, and she gasped for breath, clutching his arms hard. He set her on her feet, holding her loosely as she finally started to breathe again. She took a couple huge, wheezing breaths, then suddenly burst into tears and buried her face in his chest.

He was leery of pressing too hard on her bruised form, but he held her to him. He felt like shouting in triumph. His Heart needed him, and for the first time she was taking what she needed. Right now it was only his strength and comfort, but maybe one day it would be his love. She leaned into him as if trying to burrow under his skin. Only when he strengthened his grip on her did she appear satisfied. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, her tears making the material damp.

"Sarah, my Sarah," he chanted, "I have you, my dearest precious." After days of separation he was starved for her contact. Now that he had her, he was not about to let her go. Her body shook with heart-wrenching sobs. It was several minutes before they began to slow, and she made an effort to control herself.

"I'm s-sorry," she stammered. "I d-don't like falling." Two more deep breaths, and she tried to pull away from him. He tightened his hold on her with a soft growl.

"Do you think it was any easier for me to watch you fall?" he asked sharply. She hesitated, her arms tense as if to push him back. He remained adamantly solid in his hold, and gradually her body relaxed against his.

"Be careful," he warned her. Her hands automatically braced herself on his chest as he picked her up. He carried her to a large, over-stuffed arm chair and sat on it with Sarah in his lap. She protested gently, but again he refused to let her go. He lounged with one leg swung over the arm, and Sarah resting between his thighs. It was an intimate position, stirring his hunger for her, but he controlled the lust strictly. He would not take advantage of her when he had just gotten her back in his arms. She reclined against his chest. He was heartened that she no longer tried to get away from him.

"What book were you trying to reach?" he asked.

"I was looking for a history of the Labyrinth, or something like that," she explained, blushing. "You keep talking about things I don't know about, like the Instance, or the different people who live here, and I was trying to learn more about them."

He recalled several old books that would help her. He held up his hand and summoned one to him by magic. It was more of a child's primer, but it would be a good place for her to start. "We'll work on your calling magic, so that the next time a book is out of reach, you can bring it to you." He explained about the magicked ladders.

She nodded, chagrined. And then her expression turned impish. "I think my calling magic works pretty well already," she said slyly, "Since it brought you to me when I called."

He stared at her, feeling his pulse pounding. Did she realize what she was saying? That she worked magic on him, which was a gesture of the deepest trust and intimacy in his magical race. Furthermore, the magic was calling was nothing more than desire made real, so for her to call him, she had to have _wanted_ him.

Her face fell. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I didn't mean to say something wrong."

"No, nothing wrong," he murmured. _Everything right_. "Would you like me to read to you?"

"You don't have to," she said quickly. "I don't want to bother you if you have something more important to do."

He almost laughed at the idea that there could be something more important than being with his Heart. He used a crystal to levitate the book and open to its first pages.

"I really can read on my own," Sarah said, shifting against him. He was vexed by her insistence on avoiding him. He might have felt hurt by it, except he was certain this was more about her insecurities than his.

"You can't in this position," he said, tightening his arm around her back that pressed her to him. "You'd have to put the book on my chin, and I would _not_ allow that."

She hesitated, then agreed slowly. He began to read out loud to her. After a couple minutes, she relaxed against him. She tucked her head under his chin, her cheek resting on his chest. His fingers absently traced patterns on her back as he held her. _That's right, my Heart. You belong to me, and I belong to you. In this moment, we are one._


	23. Babysitting

**A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! I know I'm late on this update. Between the holidays and family from Georgia that I haven't seen in 6 years (I live in California), I haven't been able to touch my computer for over a week. I'll update now, and again on Wednesday like I have been doing. I appreciate your reviews, and I hope you have a GREAT year!**

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><p>Chapter 23: Babysitting<p>

The next time he had a chance to catch Sarah off her guard was when the dragon chieftain came to visit him. Skyterror came roughly once a season to report on the dragons and parts of the Labyrinth under his domain. Jareth could check up on them by magic, but having a physical meeting gave him a more detailed idea of what was happening, and allowed him to react with a personal touch when something needed doing. As usual, Skyterror had brought some of his young brood. The dragonlings were just old enough to make the journey without being exhausted, but young enough to get into trouble when left to their own devices.

Normally Jareth would bar the dragonlings and a horde of goblins in the Great Hall and let them wear each other out. He had perfected a spell that effectively blunted the dragonings' claws and fangs, and prevented their fire from burning anything, so no one got hurt. This time, he wanted Sarah to tend the three young dragons.

She was gardening with Hoggle when he looked for her. The dwarf tried to block him.

"Sarah's busy right now," Hoggle said quickly. "She don't got time to be running after the likes of you."

In the old days, he would have bogged Hoggle for trying to keep him from his Heart. Now, his eyes were focused on what was really important. Sarah was kneeling in the dirt a couple rows behind Hoggle. She was watching Jareth carefully.

"I need you," he told her calmly.

She stood and dusted off her hands. Hoggle's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

"What can I do?" she asked. Jareth figured that was a better indication of her loyalty than anything the dwarf could have said. He transported them into the Great Hall. She clung to him, disorientated by their sudden shift. She was still not recovering from the magic use as fast as she should have. He held on to her, not caring that everyone could see his concern for this woman beside him. If it were possible, he would shout from the highest point of the Underground that Sarah was _his_, and under his protection.

He was aware that the Great Hall was crowded with goblins and dragons. He felt three curious probes from the dragonlings, and then Skyterror admonished his children. Jareth buried his face in Sarah's hair to hide his grin. Soon the dragonlings would have their fill of his Heart. Sarah regained her equilibrium, and stepped away from him. He resisted the urge to pull her back, mentally counting seconds in his head. She looked up. Before he'd counted to four, she squeaked and jumped back, conveniently landing in his arms again. The dragonlings squirmed with impatience to meet their new playmate, while Skyterror responded with humor.

"Jareth!" she whispered, clutching him tightly but not taking her eyes from their guests, "Are those _dragons_?"

"Yes," he said in a normal tone, "And they can hear you."

She flushed in embarrassment.

"But they can't understand you."

She blinked in surprise. She looked at the dragons, and ascertained they were not about to leap on her. Currently, Skyterror had his three broodlings pinned between his claws, as young dragons were not known for their restrain. Jareth took the precaution of casting his safety spell now.

"They speak a different language?" she asked, tearing her eyes from the dragons to look at him. He loved the spark of curiosity in her eyes, and the way she got over her shock quickly. He ran his fingers over a strand of her hair, deliberately stroking down her cheek at the same time. Her cheeks colored. She started to step back again, but Skyterror made a deep, growling sound at one of his younglings, and she decided against it.

"In a matter of speaking," he said, unable to hide his smugness. Sarah was in _his_ arms. She had come to him for comfort and protection, though there was no danger here. "Dragons don't speak vocally, and they don't understand speech as we know it. They communication with a mixture of empathy and telepathy."

Her eyes widened. "They can read minds?"

"It is more that they read the intentions behind your thoughts. It takes a little practice to translate what they say into words, but you should have no problem understanding the babies. Just make sure to direct your thoughts toward them when you want their attention. Now, I have a meeting with Skyterror, that's their father, so just stay here and entertain the young ones."

He gestured to Skyterror, and the large dragon released his children. The dragonlings, each the size of a mastiff, bounded forward with exuberance. Sarah gasped and dodged behind him, burying her face against his back, her arms clutching his middle. He reacted instinctively, raising his hand and stopping the dragonlings with an invisible wall. They stopped and whined in frustration. Skyterror let out a huff of amusement.

Jareth turned to Sarah. "It will be alright, precious," he assured her. "They cannot hurt you or anyone else. You can do this."

Slowly she disentangled herself from him. He made as if to move off with Skyterror, and she grabbed his arm.

"Jareth!" she hissed under her breath, "I don't know the first thing about dragons! What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't think of them like dragons," he answered. "They're just children like any other. Mostly, you're going to be one part referee and two parts babysitter. You'll be fine." He kissed her forehead and let her go. It amused him to see her panicked look, and the way she still clung to him.

He released the dragonlings, and warned them to approach slowly. They did, and nuzzled Sarah's skirt and hands curiously. Once she realized they were not about to bite her, she reached out and tentatively stroked their heads. They arched into her, until one bumped into their siblings, and an impromptu wrestling match began. Sarah glanced at him and nodded. She would be fine, as he knew she would.

He left with Skyterror. They went to the library, one of the few places big enough to hold a dragon like Skyterror. Jareth sat in the armchair where he had cradled Sarah a few days ago, and smiled at the memory. As the large dragon settled himself carefully around the shelves, Jareth summoned a crystal to check on Sarah. The dragonlings and the goblins had begun on of their free-for-all brawls, and Sarah was currently on the side of the goblins, leading them to a tickling victory. Her laughter warmed his chest.

Skyterror spoke to him. Jareth had had a long time to learn how to translate dragon-speech, but even so the words sounded strange to him.

*I was well-nervous with my first-mate too,* the chieftain said. *You do well to answer her fears without adding to them. I was not always so kind to my first.*

Jareth took a moment to organize his thoughts. He did not bother to speak out loud. *It is important that I see to her well-being. My kind only ever has one mate in our lifetime. Even should she end the hunt—* the dragon term for dying, *—or take the east wind—* voluntarily leave him, *I cannot fly with another.*

Skyterror let out a keen of grief. Dragons only lived for three or four hundred years, short compared to Fae, but they took many companions in that time. It was inconceivable that to have only one partner in all that time. Being without a wing-mate was the worst possible fate for a dragon. *Then it is good that you are tender with her,* the dragon acknowledged.

*How does your brood fare?* Jareth asked, ready to get down to business. He kept his crystal on Sarah, and her occasional shouts of laughter made him smile. Once the goblins had won, Sarah switched sides, and soon the dragonlings triumphed. When both sides were exhausted, she organized them in a circle around her, and began acting out a story for them. She spoke out loud, and Jareth wondered if she realized the dragonlings were lifting the images of her story straight from her mind.

Skyterror was indulgent of his distraction. It took a little less than an hour for the chieftain's report to be completed. Before they returned to the Great Hall, he checked the crystal again. Sara was sitting on the dais steps, sleeping dragonlings and goblins draped over her like a pile of puppies. She tenderly stroked a dragonling's wing, and absently tucked a goblin closer to her side.

*Your Heart has bright eyes and an agile mind with the young ones,* Skyterror said with approval. Ground-dwellers did not match dragon standards of beauty, but it was still a generous compliment.

*Thank you,* he said absently. Watching Sarah with the young ones suddenly filled him with longing for children of their own. She would be a wonderful mother. The Labyrinth would guard his family fiercely, and he would never shun any child of his, no matter what they looked like.

Skyterror laughed smugly. *Ha! When the sire becomes broody, it is not long before the mother is brooding. May your flight breed true.*

Jareth's face grew warm as the dragon nudged him knowingly. It was no use trying to explain Sarah's fear, or his own doubts about bedding her. He stood, clearing his throat. *Shall we return to them now?*

Sarah smiled at him when they entered the Great Hall. She was pinned in place by the goblins and dragonlings, and needed his help to extract herself. Skyterror woke his children by roughly cuffing them. They blinked awake, and then pounced on their father joyfully. He nuzzled them with affection. The goblins said goodbye to their playmates, and trailed back to their duties. Sarah stood next to Jareth, leaning on his shoulder. She was tired, but not too exhausted by her adventure.

He took her hand and entwined their fingers. "You were great," he said softly, and kissed the top of her head. She jumped in surprise, and seemed to realize how close they were standing. She started to pull away, but he laid his arm over her shoulders, holding her in place. She blushed, but chose not to protest in front of their guests. Skyterror gave them a knowing look, and then herded his younglings out of the hall.

Once they were gone, Sarah again tried to move away from him. He let her, but only to the extent of his arms. He took her hands in his. "I'm proud of you," he said, squeezing her hands. "They love you."

She blushed, but this time it was in pleasure. "I was afraid of embarrassing you," she admitted.

"No, you could never do that," he assured her. He leaned in to kiss her, but she ducked her head at the last moment. He kissed her forehead instead, and pressed her hands again. This was the first time she had acted as his hostess. He threw her into the fray without warning, but she had mastered it without effort. Not all of his guests would be as easy to please as the dragonlings, but he already knew she would triumph at whatever she put her mind to.

Jareth had another opportunity to surprise Sarah a few days later. He chose to visit her during her work in the stables. He managed to manipulate events so that she was in charge of measuring out the horses' grain rations, rather than mucking their waste. He overheard one of the stable-goblins telling the fore-elf that a fence needed repair.

"I'll do it," he volunteered. The fore-elf gave him a startled look. Normally a dwarf would be summoned for repair work. Jareth glanced over to Sarah, who was also surprised.

"Come with me?" he asked.

"Sure," she agreed, moving to stand next to him. He reached out and placed an arm around her waist. He loved the way her face colored at his touch. The fore-elf had a dubious expression on his face, until he noticed Jareth watching him. The Goblin King raised one eyebrow, and the fore-elf decided he had better things to do. Sarah's cheeks grew redder as she noticed the exchange. With a low laugh, he steered her out of the stable. Everyone who saw them together would now believe they were sneaking off for to steal kisses from each other. Jareth was okay with that.

He stopped by the toolshed outside the stable and grabbed materials to repair the fence. Sarah tried to help him carry the stuff. He resisted at first. "Is it that you believe I am not strong enough to carry this by myself?" he asked sharply.

She recoiled. "No, not at all… I'm sorry. I just wanted to help."

He softened toward her, and handed her a bucket of nails. She brightened at the chance to be of use. She was less amused when he took her free hand.

"People will talk," she hissed under her breath, unsuccessfully trying to tug her hand free.

"Let them," he said flatly. "Do you think it bothers me?"

She stopped and studied him for a moment. A faint color rose to her cheeks again. "No, I know it doesn't bother you."

She somehow remained utterly innocent of the fact that the Goblin King and his Heart were _always_ in a relationship, even though everyone in the Underground knew it. She was slowly starting to realize it, but actually coming to terms with it regarding herself and Jareth was some time off.

"So this is your choice," he said in a reasonable tone, "If you want to help me, you'll take my hand. If you don't want to help me, give me the bucket back."

"And go back to the stable?" she looked stricken.

"No," he grinned, "You're coming with me either way. Your choice is _how_ you're coming."

She smiled tentatively—and she left her hand in his. Together they walked out to the pasture. She looked around nervously as they climbed through the fence. She relaxed a bit when she didn't horses or other animals in the field. He hid a smile, aware that the herd at this time of day was down by the stream, and that they'd come soon enough once they heard the visitors. Jareth led Sarah along the fence line. The materials he carried under one arm were heavy, but he could ignore them in favor of the touch of Sarah's hand in his.

He pretended this was a day like any other, and that he had no pressing matters to deal with. He was simply taking his Heart for a walk, and they were enjoying the scenery. Jareth glanced at her. She too was looking around. The weather was pleasant, clear and warm. The grass was lush underfoot, sprinkled with the occasional hardy bloom that the horses had not grazed yet. Sarah looked at him, and smiled happily.

He felt his chest lurch. If she enjoyed this simple, idyllic scene enough to smile at him, what would she do when she saw the royal gardens? Hoggle did not have access to them, so they were a part of her home that she had not explored. That was a privilege he was reserving for himself.

They reached the part where a fence board had fractured, and needed to be replaced. Jareth gave it a cursory examination, to make sure nothing untoward had happened. The board was old and well-weathered; probably a couple of the colts had been too boisterous in their play and caused the board to crack when they shoved against it. It needed to be repaired manually. Jareth could have used magic to hold the board together, but so many creatures used magic in the Underground in general, and the Labyrinth in particular, that it was a safer bet to physically replace the broken board. Magic could always be manipulated, but solid wood was a lot harder to argue with.

Jareth set down his materials and took a moment to stretch his arms out. He had to let Sarah's hand go for the moment. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, arching his spine. The stretch was a pleasure of sweet ache, causing him to smile. He froze as he felt Sarah shyly touch his shoulder, and squeeze lightly. A rush of bliss surged through him before she let go.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, "I thought you looked sore." So she had touched him to relieve his discomfort. He _was_ hurt, but not in a way she was ready to address. He turned quickly and caught her in his arms. She squirmed, trying to get away from him.

"Hush, Sarah," he soothed. "I have held you like this before, many times. There is no one here to see us, no one to gossip of what we are doing. This is just you and I, here together." He kissed her temple gently.

"I know," she gasped. "That is the problem."

Frowning, he loosened his hold on her. Surely she did not believe he would _force_ her into physical relations? She caught his look, and it was like she could his mind. She placed her hand on his chest. He pressed his hand over hers, to where he felt their double heartbeat.

"I know you are honorable," she said quickly. "It is only that… I think I am the one that is confused."

He listened to her words carefully. She wasn't pushing him away, but there was a plea in her eyes, a request for his patience. He wasn't feeling particularly patient at the moment. He kissed her temple again, and allowed his lips to trail along her hair in an unmistakable caress. She trembled. Then he let her go. So long as she knew that he wanted more, that he would always want more, that he wanted _her_, he could wait.

"Thank you," she whispered, staring at the ground. He reached out and tipped her chin back so he could see her face.

"I prefer you speak to me, not my boots," he said mildly. She nodded, and he had the urge to sweep his fingers along her chin, to cup her cheek and pull her close for a real kiss, not these bare tastes that was all her allowed himself. Instead he forced his hand down. He turned away so she wouldn't see his disappointment. "Shall we get to this fence?" he asked briskly.

She touched the small of his back, and he stopped.

"You should speak to me, too," she pointed out.

She was right, and she felt comfortable enough to point it out to him. He reached back and took her hand, pulling her up next to him. "Okay," he agreed, squeezing her hand.


	24. Fences

**A/N: Time just got away from me! So this is a day-ish late, but at least I realized it before Friday! This is the longest chapter so far. I could have divided it into two shorter chapters, but decided to keep this one as it is. This chapter is a dog-and-pony show. No really, it is. I hope you like dogs and ponies.**

Chapter 24: Fences

They began working on the fence. The first part was to remove the old board. While Sarah wasn't looking, he sent a crystal rolling off through the grass toward where the herd was hidden. Within a few minutes, the herd came into view, leisurely cropping their way closer to the fence. Sarah glanced at them while handing him tools, but wasn't disturbed by their presence so long as they kept their space.

Jareth was counting on the curiosity of the herd to come to his aid. Sure enough, the horses wandered closer. Sarah was slightly nervous about them, but they were well behaved for the time being. Jareth and Sarah worked well together. They had the comfortable silence of old friends, speaking only a few words when he needed her to hold something.

The old beam was taken away, and then new one put in place. He needed only a few nails to finish securing it, and reached back for Sarah to hand him one. His palm remained empty. "Sarah?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. He grinned as he saw her predicament. Several of the yearlings and two-year-olds had grown curious enough to surround her. She stood stiffly in a small circle of bodies, as the young horses sniffed and nudged her, looking for treats.

"Jareth," she called, her voice wavering. He went to her, not bothered by the young horses. He stood closer to her than was strictly necessary, but she didn't mind. She shifted so he was guarding her back, and it was all he could do to not take her in his arms.

"What do they want?" she asked nervously, and jumped as a yearling lipped her sleeve. She stumbled over his foot, and he caught her around the hips to steady her. She did not protest, so he left his hands where they were.

"They're just looking for treats," he soothed her. He used a crystal to conjure a handful of apple wedges. He began to hand them out to the horses. Several of the adults, sensing food, broke off from the herd and shouldered their way into the group. Sarah did not like this, especially as there was some nipping and squealing as the youngsters did not move out of the way fast enough. When the boss mare, an old chestnut, bumped against them hard enough stagger them, Sarah gasped and shrank against his chest. His arms came around her, and he gave a signal to one of the other horses.

The bright bay squealed loudly, half-rearing as he flattened his ears and stomped his feet. The rest of the herd scattered quickly, though they did not go far. He rubbed Sarah's back reassuringly.

"It's alright," he soothed.

She looked up cautiously, but remained against him.

"Are you afraid of horses?" he asked in surprise.

"They're just so _big_," she shuddered, "And strong. And those teeth!" She gave the bay still next to them a suspicious look.

He laughed, "They won't eat you. Here, this one is mine. His name is Brudhalla, it means the laughing one. He is very well-behaved, and won't bother you."

He took her hand and started to reach for the stallion's head. She pulled back sharply, not ready for the contact. He released her hand. She still remained pressed against him, and that was enough for him. He rubbed the white mark on Brudhalla's face. With a grassy sigh, the big horse leaned into his hand. After a couple minutes, Sarah timidly reached out and touched his nose. When the horse didn't immediately bite her hand off, she grew a little more confident. Brudhalla enjoyed the attention. He turned his head to view her out of first one eye, and then the other. Jareth waited for her to notice. It didn't take long.

"Jareth," she laughed. "He's like you!"

He couldn't resist, and smirked, "Devilishly handsome and the epitome of all refinement?"

She rolled her eyes, and pushed against him lightly. He loved the teasing banter between them.

"Do all your animals have odd-eyes?" she asked, instead of giving him the dignity of a reply.

"No, I happened to see this one at an auction a few years back, and frankly I couldn't resist his considerable charms," he said lightly. It was true, Brudhalla had one normal brown eyes, and one that was a very light blue, almost silvery. Few had bid on the colt because of his "disfigurement," and once the Goblin King entered the scene, it was over. At the time he'd been filled was a deep anger at Fae prejudice, but once he looked past the color of the colt's eyes and saw the conformation of the little weanling he'd purchased, he had laughed for days. Brudhalla had perfect form, and was both intelligent and eager to learn. He'd gotten a prize stallion for practically nothing, and Brudhalla turned out excellent foals year after year.

"It passes on to about a quarter of his foals," he said, and pointed out a few of the yearlings and two-year-olds that also had odd-eyes. "Each more handsome than the last, of course," he added for the sake of her reaction. She did not disappoint.

Sarah snorted. "A little in love with yourself, are you?"

He was swift to pounce, "Ah, but none of them can match up to this beauty before me," he stole a kiss to make sure she knew exactly who he was talking about.

She blushed. "Outrageous," she muttered, but looked pleased.

"Only where you are concerned, precious."

She shifted uncomfortably, as if becoming aware of how close they still stood, and that his arm was around her waist, hold her firmly against him.

"Would you like to feed him?" he asked to distract her.

"Umm, I don't know," she hesitated, her fear coming back.

"It'll be fine, I promise," he said, and handed her an apple wedge. He cupped her hand in his when she would have flinched away. She twitched as Brudhalla investigated the apple, and palpably relaxed when he took the apple and left her fingers behind.

"It tickles!" she said, her eyes bright with excitement.

"Want to try some of the others?" he asked, to keep himself from kissing her. He looked around the herd, and used his magic to summon the gentler ones. A few of the horses could be a little mouthy when accepting treats, and those ones he tossed apples out to without letting them get close to his Heart. Sarah grew slowly more comfortable as the horse remained well-behaved. She was particularly fond of a little strawberry roan filly that ate delicately from her hand. She stepped away from him, but he did not mind it so much as it showed her growing confidence.

"I need to get you a horse," he said absently, making Sarah turn toward him.

"Oh no, surely it's too much!" she protested.

"Too much?" he laughed. "I don't think you comprehend your position as my Heart…" Which was part of the problem, of course. "First of all, you must _look_ the part, and I will not have people say I am too cheap to give my Heart a mount of her own. Second, look around you! I own this herd, and by default so do you. Very few of these horses have owners or are used for jobs, and this is not the only herd I have. You may pick any of them."

Now Sarah was being shy again, perhaps overwhelmed by his declaration. It was strange, but the closer they got, it was like she _forgot_ he was the Goblin King, and all that entailed. She gave him a confused look.

"Why would I own the things that you own?" she asked blankly. He could tell they were riding close to the scar in her mind again. It had been a while since they last hit that barrier, but they were almost at it now. If he explained why exactly she had a right to everything he had, she wouldn't hear him.

He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "You'll need lessons too," he mused, then brightened. He could think of few ways to get close to Sarah than holding her against him for riding lessons.

It was a mark of how near they skirted her scar when she forgot her last question, though he hadn't answered it. She laughed and rolled her eyes. "You would do that, too," she said, as though his thoughts were plain on his face.

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it. "With you, I always will," he said firmly. Her cheek colored, making him laugh again.

"Doesn't the fence need repair?" she asked, her voice squeaking a little. He chuckled, but turned back to the fence. Brudhalla stood guard near them, and prevented the herd from interfering too much. Once it was as good as new, he used a crystal to transport their tools back to the toolshed.

"Come here," he told her, standing next to Brudhalla. Sarah moved toward him, utterly trusting. Without giving her time to protest, he grabbed her around the waist and put her on the stallion's back.

"Jareth, no!" she shrieked, clutching his wrists desperately. "I'm not ready for this!"

"Relax," he said calmly. "I'll be right here with you. Let me go, so I can get up behind you."

"Please don't let me go!"

"Sarah!" he said sharply, trying to break through her panic. "You'll be fine. Do you trust me?"

She nodded jerkily.

"Do you think I would let you fall?"

She shook her head.

"Okay, so hold onto the mane right here, it won't hurt him. Got a firm grip? Okay, let me climb up behind you, and then I'll hold you on. Brudhalla's not going to move, I promise."

Her death-grip on his hands slowly transferred to the stallion's mane. Once she released him, he quickly jumped up behind her. She whimpered as his motion made her sway. He scooted up behind her, pressing his legs against hers. He put his arms around her waist and gently eased her against him. She was stiff and trembling. He spent a few minutes rubbing her arms and sides, murmuring reassurances. She never got comfortable, but she at least got to the point that she trusted he wouldn't let her fall.

He nudged Brudhalla forward, and the horse began a slow walk. Sarah was extremely nervous at first. He remained quiet, enjoying the feeling of holding his Heart in his arms. Brudhalla was on his best behavior, and acted like an old plow-horse. He didn't think he was able to teach her anything, but by the time the stable came into view, she had at least relaxed to the point of being able to look around.

It was a little rocky getting down, when he slid off before her. He took her around the waist and pulled her into him. She laughed, partly in relief and partly in delight. Her legs collapsed under her, and she had to hold onto him to remain upright. He didn't mind in the slightest. With her face flushed from exertion, and holding onto him so closely, everyone in the stable-yard looked at them and smirked, certain of their activities. Jareth did not bother to correct them.

He escorted Sarah to her room so she could wash before lunch. Now that she was on the ground again, she was far more excited by her experience with the horses. She was still dubious about having one of her own. Perhaps that was too much for her right now. He made a mental note to have the strawberry roan filly set aside for training. For now Sarah could learn on old, calmer nags, just as he had, and by the time she was ready for a full mount of her own, the filly should be just about ready. He returned to the stable briefly to talk to the fore-elf about arranging horses for Sarah's lessons. He would handle most of her teaching himself, but there were a few things the old horse-master knew better than himself.

The next day, he received a further reply to his letter. The idea he'd had while watching Sarah play with Ambrosius had finally come to fruition. He had a gift for Sarah, and he couldn't wait to see her reaction to it. He picked up his cargo at once, and left it in her room as he went looked for his Heart. He found her in the sewing room with Zinnia and half-a-dozen goblin seamstresses.

He was so excited, that he did not feel his usual disdain at seeing Sarah engaged in menial work. He took a moment to compose himself, and heard laughter coming from the room. His Heart's sweet laugh stood out from the others. Smiling, he shamelessly eavesdropped on their conversation. It appeared the women were doing nothing more than sharing gossip and exchanging stories while they worked. He didn't understand the appeal of it, but he recognized the easy comradery in the group. They accepted Sarah as one of their own, and she enjoyed their company.

The circle of seamstresses suddenly seemed like such an intensely feminine place that he hesitated to intrude his male presence into their company. The thought of waiting for Sarah pushed him into the room. Talk instantly died down as every eye turned to him. Despite being the Goblin King, he could not remember the last time he was under such strong scrutiny!

He cleared his throat, and on a whim, addressed the entire group. "Ladies," he greeted with an elegant bow that won him sighs of approval. "May I take Sarah from your company?"

The power of women working in concert was a little frightening. Before Sarah had time to look more than startled, she was quickly pushed forward.

"My Heart," he took her hand and kissed it. The women erupted in giggles. Sarah tried to give them a stern look, but failed miserably. For once the women were on his side. They believed that he had come to romance his Heart, and he was all too happy to play up to their expectations. Sarah acknowledged defeat, and allowed him to put his arm around her waist as he guided her from the room.

When they were alone in the hallway, she started to move away from him. He tightened his grip, and she stumbled.

"Jareth!" she exclaimed in frustration as he caught her easily.

"Are you having trouble with your balance?" he asked innocently. "I think I shall hold onto you for support."

She sighed, but realized this was not a battle she'd win. "What did you need from me?" she asked instead.

"Do I have to have a reason to see my Heart?" he replied smoothly.

She gave him a sharp look. "You're up to something," she said suspiciously. In an instant he had her pinned against the wall, his hands on either side of her head. Her eyes widened in shock. He leaned in close to her, a dangerous glint in his gaze.

"Do not mistake me," he warned in a low tone. "I am the Goblin King. I am _always_ up to something."

She gaped at him. He ran his hand down her arm, a slow caress she was helpless to resist. He took her hand brought it to his mouth. She shivered. "In this case, _something_ is in the bedroom." He realized his mistake at once. Sarah's head rocked back, and she looked stricken. He cursed under his breath.

"No, not that," he assured her quickly, "But I do have a gift for you in the room, and it will not wait for long."

She nodded, and they resumed walking the hallway. He kept her hand, his thumb trailing over her knuckles absently. When they reached the bedroom door, he moved behind her and covered her eyes with his hands. She huffed impatiently.

"Isn't this taking things a little too far?" she asked sharply.

He would have answered, but he was distracted by the feel of her skin under his hands, and the curve of her slender neck. He leaned down to her, wanting to taste her. His breath ghosted over the back of her neck, and she froze.

"Jareth?" she asked nervously, snapping him from his reverie. His lips skimmed the side of her throat, making her stiffen. With a sigh, he pulled back his desire. Someday, he would no longer have to restrain himself. He willed the door of the bedroom open with magic, and guided Sarah into the room. He dropped his hand to her shoulders. She felt delicate and tense under his hands. He wanted to rub her muscles and ease that tension away from her…

Sarah's eyes fell on the white and ginger puppy in the middle of the room. She gasped, reaching up to grip his hands hard.

"Is that," her voice wavered uncertainly, "A puppy? For me?"

He chuckled darkly. His hands squeezed hers reassuringly. "That is most certainly a puppy, and you are absolutely the only one I would give it to," he said, and gave her a push forward.

She resisted him, though she staggered a step toward the pup. It whined and wiggled in the invisible pen he'd placed it in. "Surely it's too much!" Sarah protested, even as he felt her yearning for the pup.

"Not for my Heart," he said firmly, and released her. "Go to him."

She approached the pup, who yipped excitedly. She extended her shaking hand to it. Already familiar with her scent from the dress Jareth had stolen, it licked her fingers enthusiastically. Jareth dissolved the magical pen as Sarah knelt down and took the puppy in her arms. It squirmed and whimpered with joy. His Heart bent her head over the puppy, her shoulders shaking with tears. He frowned. This was not the reaction he had expected. He sat down behind her and wrapped her in his arms.

"What's wrong?" he asked, as she trembled with sobs.

She shook her head and tilted her head back against his shoulder. She squeezed the large pup tightly as it tried to lick up her tears. "Nothing's wrong," she whispered. He made a growl of frustration.

"No one's ever… cared for me like this before," she admitted. Suddenly she pushed back against him and kissed his cheek. It blazed through him like wildfire and fine wine. He held her closer, his senses spinning with her presence.

"Thank you," she said, and looked down at her puppy. He had no idea how she could be innocent of the conflagration he ignited in him. He took deep breaths of her scent, and tried to resist the urge to dump her on the bed and press his body on top of hers… He stifled a groan.

"What kind of dog is this?" she asked, oblivious to his struggle. "He looks a bit like a St Bernard." The puppy lay on his back and waved his paws playfully at his mistress.

Jareth cleared his throat, but his voice still came out husky. "He is a breed unique to the Underground, called a Grimhound. The pure black ones are usually considered more valuable—"

"No, I love him just like this!" she exclaimed, scratching his chest and belly. What Jareth would have given to trade places with the puppy…

Though very young, the Grimhound was already nearly forty pounds. His fur was long and fluffy, with large patches of white and ginger. His build and coloring was somewhat similar to a St Bernard, but the Goblin King neglected to mention that when full-grown seven years from now, the Grimhound would be as large as a pony. Both fiercely loyal and very intelligent, they were used as personal guard dogs. They had a lifespan of over fifty years, as well as a few other magical abilities that helped them protect their charges. Jareth figured it was best to let Sarah bond with the pup before informing her that it was the equivalent of a doggy bodyguard.

He continued, "He'll need some training, but you'll find that he learns quickly. From now on, he will only take orders from you, and anyone you tell him to obey."

"You, of course," she said promptly, earning her a tight hug. She actually hummed in pleasure, which sent his blood racing again. He realized he was holding her against him, and she wasn't complaining or trying to pull away. It felt like this was his reward for good behavior, but the reward itself was oh-so-tempting to give in to bad behavior.

"I appreciate that, but it's best that he answers to as few people as possible," he said, and waited for her to ask why. He underestimated the draw of puppy-love though, and she was too caught up by her pet to question him deeply.

"So just us, then," she said, and unabashedly snuggled deeper into him. Much more of this and he _would_ take her to bed. It was a good thing they were sitting in a somewhat uncomfortable position on the floor. Focusing on the discomfort in his limbs was one of the few things that were keeping him sane.

His throat felt very dry as he asked, "What are you going to name him?"

"Hmm, let's see," she mused, standing the puppy on his feet to examine him. The Grimhound began to explore the room, his tail wagging and nose working hard. For several minutes they were quiet. Sarah was content to observe her dog, and Jareth was happy to observe her.

"I think… Maple," she said at last, breaking the Goblin King from his contemplation of the love of his life.

"Oh? And why's that?" he asked absently still watching her. His hands twitched to be able to sculpt her form, to trace her curves and worship her skin with fingers and mouth…

"Well, for one thing, his color reminds me of maple syrup," she said, and her innocent words made him think of tasting maple syrup on her skin. Perhaps he could arrange one of those mortal breakfasts that used syrup, and somehow find a way to kiss her…

"For another, this little patch of white here," she pointed to the puppy's hip, "Looks a bit like a maple leaf."

He gave the dog a brief look. Yes, he could see the resemblance, but nearly all of his attention was taken up by his Heart. "It's a good name," he said, though she could have called the puppy Rumpelstiltskin and he would have said the same thing.

"Maple!" she called. The Grimhound gave her a curious look. "Yes, that's you, come here, Maple!"

Maple bounded over to her, barreling into them almost hard enough to topple them over. Sarah's elbow crashed hard into his ribs, knocking the wind out of him and at least for now banishing his bedroom thoughts.

"Gentle, pup," he coughed. He disentangled himself and stood up before Sarah's proximity could cast a spell over him again. "You should keep him with you most of the time," he said. "I won't ban him from the castle so long as he is well-behaved. It's a good idea for you to stop by the kennels on occasion. The kennel-master is a dwarf that is familiar with this breed, so he can make sure Maple is growing well, and give you some training tips."

"Thank you, Jareth," Sarah gathered Maple in her arms and stood up. "This really means a lot to me."

He cast his Heart and her puppy an amused look. "He does know how to walk, you know."

She grinned. "Not yet. Do you know where I can get a leash, and bowls for water and food? Do I go to the kennels to feed him?"

He gave her a blank look. She laughed at him.

"Didn't think that far ahead?" she teased.

"You won't need a leash, as he'll follow you without it," he said, "And as for everything else, refer to the kennel-master." He started to turn away, but she caught his hand.

"Thank you," she said again. She kissed his hand, as he had done to her so many times. His breath caught in his throat. He left before she could seduce him into something he would regret doing.

Later that night, he came to say goodnight to Sarah. She was braiding her hair for sleep, sitting on the bed, and next to her was Maple.

He frowned at the dog. "Ah, no, Sarah. Dogs do _not_ belong on the bed," he said, and firmly put the pup on the floor. He conjured a nest of blankets for Maple on the floor. When Sarah took possession of the Queen's chambers, Maple could sleep on the Queen's bed. He did _not_ want a dog on his bed, especially one that would out-weigh him in a few years. Especially not when Sarah was in his bed. He swore Maple gave him a resentful look, but Jareth remained unmoved.

He took Maple's place beside Sarah, and took over the braiding of her hair. They sat in tense silence.

"I didn't know you could braid hair," she said when he finished. He smiled to himself. The feel of her silky strands was more than enough incentive for him to learn.

"You'd be surprised by what I can do," he said, and it came out more suggestive than he'd intended. She gave him an arch look, and he smirked innocently.

"Goodnight, precious," he said, and kissed her lips briefly. It was too fast for her to protest, though she laughed and shook her head at his never-ending attempts. He retired to his study for an hour, until he was sure she was soundly asleep. He walked back in, and stopped when he saw Maple on the bed again. He thought Sarah had disobeyed him, until he saw the scratches on the trunk at the base of his bed.

"Right," he whispered so he wouldn't wake Sarah. "Let's get this over with." He strode over to the pup. Maple stood and bristled at him, baring sharp white milk teeth. He grabbed Maple's muzzle and prevented him from biting. The Grimhound was at least three years and a hundred pounds from being able to take his battle form—fur became hardened scales, and teeth and claws grew longer—but he still tried.

"Sarah does _not_ belong to you," Jareth said firmly, knowing the dog understood him perfectly. "You do _not_ have the right to ban me from her side. You are here to protect her and watch over her, but in all ways, she is _mine_. You belong to her, not the other way around."

He paused, and admitted, "I belong to her too. Now, you can stay here for now, but only at the foot of the bed. And when I take her to bed, I expect you to get off. If you can follow those simple rules, we'll get along just fine." He waited a moment longer, then released the pup. Maple gave him a hard look, then bowed his head and licked his hand. They were in agreement. Maple's first loyalty would always be to Sarah, but at least Goblin King and Grimhound were in accord about keeping Sarah well.

Maple went to the foot of the bed, turned around several times, and laid down with a sigh. Jareth glanced at Sarah. She slept through everything, but she was so alluring, he couldn't leave her. Without giving himself time to realize what a bad idea it was, he moved to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to her. His body felt invigorated by being in bed with her. He remained on top of the covers to keep some barriers between them. Maple raised his head and looked at Jareth.

"You can stay," he whispered. The presence of the pup would hardly keep his intentions innocent but it would be another deterrent.

"If I start something… bite me."

Maple gave a broad doggy grin. Jareth gathered Sarah in his arms. His Heart murmured and pressed closer to him. She was more affectionate in her sleep, and she tucked her head under his chin. The thought of his toes being nibbled on by a slightly venomous Grimhound kept Jareth from doing more than kissing the top of her head. He knew she would be horrified to know he was cuddling her in bed, but just for tonight, he allowed himself to sleep here.


End file.
